


Love Potion HP

by Tavalya_Ra



Series: Love Potion HP [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-07-18
Updated: 2002-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 46,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tavalya_Ra/pseuds/Tavalya_Ra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape and Sirius Black have always shared a strong mutual hatred, but never before have they been obsessed with each other. Whether it's love or lust, they're both disgusted by it. Someone's playing cupid, but is it fate, Dumbledore, or Voldemort? (AU- this fic was written before the release of "Order of the Phoenix".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Explosions

**Author's Note:**

> This is my oldest fanfic and, due to that, it no longer reflects my writing style. Rereading it years later, I found dozens of ways in which my writing has improved, yet I still enjoyed the story. I hope you will as well.
> 
> "Love Potion HP" was written in 2002, before the release of "Order of the Phoenix". Due to this, certain events and details- including characterization- are now in direct conflict with canon, making this story a retroactive AU.
> 
> This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Rowling is a goddess; may she have mercy on my soul for writing this.

            Harry spied the pebble a split-second before it collided with his flask. The bottle tottered, then fell to the dungeon floor.

            _Smash!_ Professor Snape turned on his heel so swiftly that his billowing black robes snapped as they swished. His wand was in his hand, deftly pointing at the purple puddle beside Harry’s desk.

            “Mr. Potter, is that your potion?” he asked dangerously.

            Harry gulped. “Yes, sir.”

            Behind him, Draco Malfoy snickered.

            “Why is it the wrong color?”

            “I- I-”

            Before he could adequately respond, Snape had stormed over to his desk and snatched a small, obviously unopened gray bottle.

            “Could it be because you neglected to add the Flare-char Powder?” Snape asked pointedly, glaring down his hooked nose at Harry.

            Professor Quirrell, a former teacher from Harry’s first year, had once described Severus Snape as an “overgrown bat” and Harry had to agree. Snape was tall and thin, with an ever-present condescending sneer across his face. He wore only black, the same color as his cold eyes and greasy, shoulder-length hair. His skin was sallow, as if he never left the dungeon which held his classroom and office. He detested Harry and over the past few years, the sentiment had become mutual. Harry always felt only one of two emotions around Snape: extreme nervousness or bright anger. At the present moment, he was experiencing the former.

            “I- I believe so…”

            “For once, Mr. Potter,” said Snape sardonically, “your incompetence has saved your life. Had you mixed the potion properly, it would have exploded when it struck the floor. Ten points from Gryffindor for trying to blow yourself up… and an additional twenty for failing to do so.”

            Harry slumped in his seat. Thirty points from Gryffindor all because of Malfoy. _I bet he would have added points to Gryffindor if I_ had _gotten blown up!_

            “Professor.” Hermione stood up. Snape gave her a disdainfully dulled look. “With all due respect, it isn’t Harry’s fault. A stone hit-”

            “Miss Granger, there is nothing honorable about covering up another friend’s folly- particularly when it could have resulted in his death,” Snape countered coolly, then addressed the class. “You are fifth-year students, which means you should be capable of the responsibility of working with dangerous substances. If any of you finds acting your age objectionable, I suggest you come to class a period earlier to work with the first-years.”

            Snape’s beetle-black eyes darted to the ceiling as the bell rang. “Tonight, I want you all to review the standard safety procedures- I think a test is in order. However, this means you will have to make up tomorrow’s lesson on your own time.”

            Everybody, even the Slytherins, groaned as they filed out of the classroom. Harry was just about to leave when Snape tossed a rag at him. “Not yet, Potter. Clean this mess up.”

            Harry sighed and began to wipe up the puddle. Snape observed him coldly as if he were an insect. A few minutes later, he heard a sound like nails tapping against the floor. Snape looked up; Harry saw him grimace with distaste.

            “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll clean it up.”

            Harry was surprised but did not ask questions. He stood up and saw a large black dog walking across the room.

            _Sirius?_ Harry knew he had been at Hogwarts since late July and he had spoken with him several times since school began last month, but why would he be visiting Snape?

            “Potter…” Snape warned.

            Harry hastily scampered from the room, making brief eye-contact with Sirius before departing.

 

* * *

 

            Severus Snape folded his arms and regarded the dog coolly as it slowly morphed into a man, Sirius Black. The last time Severus had seen him, he had not had a proper haircut in years. Now, his black mane appeared to have been roughly hacked off at the shoulder and it resembled a mop. Although his eyes were bright, his face had traces of a haunted look which never left him. He was not quite the same person Severus had gone to school and shared a mutual hate relationship with twenty years ago; Azkaban had left its mark upon him.

            “What do you want, Black?” he asked without any particular interest, but his loathing was nonetheless apparent.

            Sirius sighed. “Listen, I’ve been thinking-”

            “A new experience for you?”

            He glared at him for several moments before speaking again. “Funny,” he stated flatly. “You’re not making this easy.”

            “Then spit it out so you can leave,” Severus retorted calmly.

            Sirius continued. “I’ve been talking quite a bit with Dumbledore and it’s obvious that you and I might have to work together in the future. There is a lot of… history… between us and I-”

            “As tempting as it is, I won’t turn you over to Azkaban,” he informed him. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

            “That wasn’t what I mean!” Sirius exclaimed exasperated, but Severus had already turned. “Listen…” Sirius grabbed his arm. The left one. Severus gasped in pain and Sirius instantly released him.

            “What-”

            “Oh, it’s not you!” he snapped, cradling his arm. “It’s none of your business.”

            “But the Mark-”

            “It’s been burning on and off for the past week. Dumbledore knows, so just keep out of it. Now, your obviously hell-bent on telling me whatever it is, so just do it!”

            Sirius growled in frustration. “I came to apologize,” he said gruffly.

            Severus raised an eyebrow. “Apologize? How humble of you. What for this time, Black? Did the headmaster put you up it again?

            “Snape, I’m serious. I want to apologize for…” he bit his lip. “For luring you into following Remus-”

            “Oh, you mean the night you tried to have me killed?” he inquired politely.

            “I didn’t mean-”

            “Then what _did_ you mean? A critical injury rather than just simply death?”

            Sirius only glared.

            “Oh, why am I not surprised?” he scoffed. “The illustrious Mr. Black couldn’t predict the behavior of a rabid werewolf. What about Lupin? Surely he knew-”

            “Remus wasn’t in on the plan.”

            “Excuse me?” he said.

            “Remus knew nothing about it, and for the matter neither did James. It was all my idea. They found out at the last minute. You have no reason to hold a grudge against them, Severus. It was all me.”

            Severus sneered. “How noble of you to take all the blame.”

            “Damn it, will you listen to me! I want to apologize-”

            “That makes it all better, right?” he said silkily. “Let bygones be bygones. Would you so generously dole out the forgiveness you expect of me if right this second Peter Pettigrew-”

            Sirius gasped. “What do you know about Pettigrew?”

            Severus gave him a superior smile. “Oh, Dumbledore told me the truth about the two of you. I was surprised. I never knew he was a Death Eater, although I wasn’t very shocked to learn you were one.”

            Sirius was so furious he was trembling. “You know very well I was never a Death Eater. I am innocent man!”

            “Innocent?” Severus was quite enjoying himself. “Of Pettigrew’s death, perhaps.”

            “What are you implying?”

            “Isn’t it obvious?” he toyed.

            “Damn it, Snape, can’t you ever talk straight!” he shouted.

            Severus narrowed his eyes. “I knew from the start you were nasty, Sirius. Later, I learned you were murderous as well. I know what you are capable of. I can see into your true nature-”

            “I’m not your reflection, Snape!” he snapped.

            Severus took a deep breath. “And what is that supposed to mean?” he whispered.

            With acid on his tongue, Sirius pronounced, “Your assessment is pretty rich coming from a Death Eater.”

            Severus felt himself turn icy, then burn up in rage.

            “Rich, is it! I think I’ve earned it!” he exclaimed. “I saw where Voldemort was going and knew I didn’t want to follow- and I knew what that meant, too! I knew I was risking everything, more than even my life, by turning away from the Dark Lord when he was on the rise, but I had the character to do it! Could the same be said of you, Black? If you were in my position, would you have had the spine-”

            “How long would you have lasted in _Azkaban?!_ ” Sirius bellowed. “For over twelve years, I had every shred of happiness, everything that made life worth the living, sucked from me! My worst memories were dredged up and paraded before my mind-”

            “What were you _doing_ in Azkaban if you were so innocent?”

            “I wasn’t given a trial! Barty Crouch-”

            “Oh, that’s the story of your life, isn’t it, Black?” Severus spat. “It’s always the fault of someone else. Pettigrew framed you, Crouch sentenced you, and you, you’re just the innocent victim-”

            “I’m far more innocent than you!”

            Severus stiffened. “I know my crimes, Sirius. I can accept my own actions.”

            “What is _wrong_ with you!” he screamed. “I came to apologize, to say I’m sorry I almost had you killed when we were schoolboys, but now I’m not so sure! What have you ever done for _anybody?_ ”

            Severus was livid. “Have I no value as an educator? Had I no value as a spy against Voldemort? I saved your brat godson’s life once- surely that’s something even _you_ would recognize as of value!”

            Sirius regarded him keenly. “What are you talking about?”

            “His first year here, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher jinxed his broom during a Quidditch match. I was simultaneously casting the counter-curse.”

            Sirius took a step back, absolutely stunned. Severus approached him, saying softly, “You don’t know everything, Sirius.”

            “Neither do you!” he retorted.

            “Oh, I think I know quite enough-!”

            Severus’ toe stubbed against an odd cobblestone on the floor. He stumbled and toppled into Sirius, who caught him in his arms. Their eyes were level, the Dark Mark on his skin burned and the next moment-

            The next moment never happened. Time jumped forward to several seconds later, in which Severus found something soft pressed against his lips. It was Sirius’ mouth. Both, with a strangled enraged cry, pushed the other away. Severus was boiling in a bubble of his own fury. Sirius’ face was a shock of pure surprise and disgust.

            “GET OUT!” Severus roared.

            “Why are you mad?” Sirius shouted back. “You’re the one who-” He stopped and shuddered. “Oh… ugh…”

            “I most certainly DID NOT! GET OUT!”

            Severus snatched up a flask and lobbed it at Sirius’ head. It missed; instead it hit the wall and shattered, but nothing happened. Apparently, it was one of Potter’s concoctions. 

            “You are the most infuriating person I have ever met!” Sirius roared, grabbing a bottle to return the favor.

            Severus’s heart leapt in his throat as he recognized the potion as the work of Hermione Granger. He swiftly jumped aside, barely dodging the small explosion that resulted.

 

* * *

 

            Harry did not catch up with Hermione and Ron until they were halfway to the Gryffindor tower.

            “Ron! Hermione!” he shouted.

            Both of them turned as he ran straight for them. His face was flushed and his heart was thumping wildly.

            “What is it?” Hermione asked.

            “You’ll never believe it,” Harry answered breathlessly. “I saw Sirius enter the Potions room! He’s talking with Snape-”

            “What?” Ron interrupted. “Why would Sirius and Snape-”

            “I didn’t spy because it was Sirius. They might still be-”

            “Harry, where is your bag?” Hermione inquired suddenly.

            Harry paused and a look of dread stole over his face.

            “Oh no.”

            “What?” asked Ron.

            Harry groaned. “I left it in Snape’s room,” he realized miserably.

            “You have to get it right away!” Ron declared. “If Snape finds it-”

            Hermione sighed. “He’s a teacher. He won’t do anything.”

            “Yeah, right!” Ron retorted, grabbing Harry’s arm. “Come on, let’s get it!”

            The two of then rushed down the hall. From behind, Hermione muttered, “At least we just left last period.”

 

* * *

 

            The Potions room was not at all as Harry had left it. Several cauldrons were upturned and rolling on the floor, shards of glass were littered everywhere, their contents mingling into purple and red puddles. Scorch marks evidenced several small, recent explosions. Although Harry’s bag was in plain view, so too was something else far more disturbing. Professor Snape was pressed against his desk by Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black. They were literally tearing at each other’s faces, but it took Harry a few moments to realize that while they were intently trying to gouge out each other’s eyeballs, they were also kissing.

            The look of disgust on Ron and Hermione’s faces would have been perfectly precious had they not mirrored Harry’s own. Somehow, despite that his tongue had turned to lead, he managed to find his voice.

            “On second thought, I’ll just get my bag in the morning…”

            The three made a hasty, silent, and most importantly, unnoticed retreat.


	2. Mutual Confusion

“FILCH!”

            Severus had never felt so livid in his life as he stormed down the hall towards the castle caretaker. Students fled from his path as if he were the Dark Lord himself. The fresh scratches on his face emphasized the deep lines wrath etched onto his skin.

            Argus Filch glanced at Severus with alarm in his lamp-like eyes, but stated calmly, “Something wrong, Professor?”

            “Perhaps it has escaped your attention that a large DOG is running loose through HOGWARTS?!” Severus boomed.

            “No. I know about the dog.”

            “Then why haven’t you DONE something!”

            “Headmaster’s orders, Professor,” Filch replied. “He told me to leave the dog to it’s own business, mentioned something about it being a special watchdog Hagrid found.”

            Severus’s lips grew as thin as they could without inverting in on themselves.

            “Are you alright, Professor?” Filch asked. “That’s a nasty scratch on your cheek.”

            Severus was so angry that frustration caged his voice within his throat. Glaring at Filch, he opened his mouth, closed it, then turned on his heal and stalked away.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius sat alone in the small corridor outside Albus Dumbledore’s office, one of the few places in Hogwarts where it was safe for him to be human. He gently touched his face, still tender from Severus’ nails. His thoughts were a jumble and his emotion was indescribable.

            What had just happened? He remembered Severus tumbling into his arms, which was purely by accident; he would have more than gladly allowed the Potions Master to fall flat on his face. But after that, a glitch in his brain had deleted a few seconds of memory. All he could recall was the press of Severus’ lips against his own.

            Sirius would never kiss Severus. Not in a million years, even under the Imperius Curse. He tried to think of a more repugnant act and his imagination failed him. Which mean that it was Severus who had kissed-

            A tingling sense of disgust shuddered through him and for a moment he writhed with revulsion. The kiss itself was not repulsive. It was the fact that it was Severus.

            Sirius remembered being overcome with a bright and burning anger, sudden compellation to tear Severus to shreds in the most thorough and terrible way. It had taken him over fifteen minutes to realize into what that was translating. He had let go and Severus had slumped to the floor like a rag doll, watching stupidly as Sirius had left the room.

            The first time, Severus had kissed Sirius. He knew that had to be true, even though he could not remember it. But that kiss had triggered in him an urge to utterly consume Severus.

            And Sirius still felt that way.

            What was wrong with him? Yes, he hated Severus, no question there, but to act upon that abhorrence in such a repulsive and feral manner-

            He had to get away from Hogwarts. Part of him wanted to stay; he felt safer personally keeping an eye on Harry, but it would be far worse for his godson- and everyone else- if he went crazy. Severus was right about one thing. Sirius was capable of murder and he did not want to think of what he might do if he really did snap.

            Three days ago, Dumbledore had asked Sirius to consider traveling into mainland Europe to gather news of Voldemort’s doings. Sirius had reluctantly agreed- he genuinely wanted help Dumbledore but Harry, as always, was his highest priority- but Severus had decided for him. As soon as the headmaster returned, Sirius would inform him that he was leaving tomorrow.

 

* * *

            Harry toyed with his sausage, taking a nibble every so often then despondently setting it back on his plate. He had barely eaten dinner last night, but he still was not hungry. He simply felt too queasy.

            “There’s only one explanation,” Hermione stated between bites of egg. “Snape and Sirius got into a fight and started throwing potions at each other- that’s why we saw explosions. But a love potion or two was mixed in with the explosives and they hit each other with them. They should be back to normal in a day or so.”

            Harry shook his head. “Why would Snape have a love potion?”

            Ron snorted. “Because he needs one.”

            Hermione scowled. “That’s beside the point. I mean… it makes no sense otherwise. Sirius and Snape?”

            “Snape and anybody?” Ron interjected.

            Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I guess it makes sense…”

            “Actually,” Ron continued, “I rather fancied Snape and Lockhart as a couple.”

            Hermione responded with a withering look.

 

* * *

 

            Harry stared bleary eyed at his parchment. The words on the test swam in front of him as Snape’s eyes bored into his back. The Potions Master was in a particularly foul mood even by his own standards. For once, Harry silently thanked Malfoy. If today’s class had been a lab instead, it would have been more than merely unbearable, but downright deadly, and not just because of Snape. Harry had already made enough blunders in Charms and Transfigurations to rival Neville. Several teachers, including Madam Trelawney, who loved nothing more than for a student to faint in class, had asked him if he ought to see the nurse.

            Harry glanced up at Snape and instantly regretted it. The nausea in his stomach intensified. Few of Snape’s students, Harry included, had failed to notice the red marks crisscrossing the Potions Master’s face, particularly the prominent scratch along his left cheek. Angry crescents, the obvious work of fingernails, along the sides were ineffectively obscured by his hair. Rumors had been flying faster than a Snitch through the halls of Hogwarts all day. Of course, no one dared mention anything to Snape directly.

            At least it was a Friday and the start of a Hogsmeade weekend. Hopefully the village would provide a pleasant distraction. Harry just could not shake the image from yesterday from his mind.

 

* * *

 

            Hogwarts’s dungeon was the last place to which Sirius wished to return, but the manner in which he had departed from it yesterday left Severus’s position in question. Severus hated him, but he had also kissed him and those two things just did not mesh. Whatever sick plot the Potions Master had in mind, Sirius would nip it in the bud right now.

            Severus spied Sirius a few moments after he, in Animagus form, trotted into the classroom. He reacted immediately, snatching up a glass flask off his desk and lifting it menacingly in the air.

            “Come near me and I will shrink you,” he informed Sirius calmly.

            Sirius did not doubt for one moment that Severus was serious. Remaining at his spot, he changed back into himself and cleared his throat. “What happened yesterday-”

            “What about yesterday?”

            “No, no, no. What happened yesterday?” he demanded. “What was that supposed to mean?”

            Severus’ patience was brittle as he answered, “What happened yesterday is that you made… we’ll call it an ‘overture’… using physical force. Now, how do you expect me to explain your actions?”

            “You kissed me!” he shouted. “Not the other way around, Snape!”

            Severus’ eyes widened threateningly and he raised the flask. Sirius stepped back and retorted, “Oh, put that down! I’m not anywhere near you!”

            Severus hesitated, then lowered his arm. “No, nor will you ever be again.”

            “Look, whatever happened yesterday…” Sirius began, then gave up at being nice. “Severus, with only the exception of Pettigrew, you’re the most revolting person I’ve ever met and I’m sure that sentiment is mutual. Let’s forget yesterday ever happened. I’m going away for a few weeks tonight, so that shouldn’t be so hard, should it?” He bit off his final words with a glare.

            “Excellent suggestion,” Severus said. “I won’t miss you.”

            He turned towards his desk and ignored Sirius for the few moments he remained standing before morphing back into a dog and leaving.

 

* * *

 

            Potions class, more so than ever, had become a lesson in endurance. Harry was amazed at how long he could remain on his feet while nauseous. Every time he looked at Snape’s face-

            It was just a love potion…

            He found himself marking the passage of time by the healing of Snape’s scratches. They were almost gone by October tenth, when Harry received an owl from Sirius.

            Like Hermione said, it makes no sense otherwise…

            His godfather was returning on the sixteenth.

            …it was just a love potion.

            So why did Harry still feel like the Snitch was trapped in his stomach?

 

* * *

 

            Five more days, Severus thought.

            Five more days until October sixteenth. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the morning; Slytherins and Gryffindors in the afternoon.

            Four more days.

            Why was he counting down the days? Was he dreading Sirius return- or anticipating it?

            Why should he care either way?

            Three days. Two days.

            One.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius returned exactly when planned. The next day, he, along with McGonagall and Snape, met with Albus Dumbledore in the headmaster’s office. The room was filled with all sorts of curiosities strange to even the wizarding world: rare instruments of silver that puffed smoke and made odd sounds, moving portraits of previous headmasters, and the ever-present pet phoenix Fawkes, currently in his full, resplendent scarlet and gold plumage.

            The four sat around a mahogany conference table that Dumbledore had conjured into the room expressly for their meeting. Dumbledore, a tall, thin wizard with twinkling blue eyes behind half-moon glasses and a beard as long as his waist-length gray hair, sat at the head of the table. Despite his age, he had a sprightly air, just like McGonagall, who sat his left. Minerva McGonagall, Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor House, was the only member of the Hogwarts staff, other than Severus, which Dumbledore trusted with such sensitive information. Although seventy, her black hair, which was pulled tightly into a bun, had not yet begun to gray.

            “Voldemort’s activities seem limited strictly to revenge among his ranks,” Sirius informed them, rather disturbed at the sense of detachment in his own voice. “Many Death Eaters, most of which were cleared by the Ministry of Magic fourteen years ago, have died, apparently tortured by the Cruciatus Curse. Among the dead is Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang.”

            McGonagall adjusted her robes nervously. “Karkaroff was just here several months ago.”

            “Is there any evidence Voldemort tried reading his victims’ minds?” Dumbledore inquired. “Particularly Karkaroff?”

            Severus abruptly straightened himself in his chair.

            Sirius nodded. “I’m afraid there’s strong evidence in favor of that, especially with Karkaroff. But why is Karkaroff important?”

            The headmaster paused a moment before responding. “Karkaroff knew something I would have much preferred remained a secret: definitive proof of Severus’ true allegiance. He knew Severus remained a Death Eater only in name to be my spy.”

            Severus seemed to pale slightly. “How did Karkaroff know this?” he asked softly.

            For a moment, Dumbledore looked weary, weighted by his thoughts. “I am at fault,” he confessed. “Shortly after his initial capture and imprisonment at Azkaban, Karkaroff went before the Ministry and offered names in exchange for freedom. He was most adamant about yours. I revealed you to silence him. Forgive me.”

            Severus made no reply. He stared into space with a blank expression.

            “In light of this development,” the headmaster began, “we will have to modify our plans. You, Severus, must remain at Hogwarts.”

            Severus only nodded.

            “Now, is there anything else?”

            “Yes,” Severus said. “The Mark started burning again today, for the first time since Black left.”

            “He’s summoning his followers again?” McGonagall inquired.

            “Possibly, but the Dark Lord can control individual Marks if he wishes. Which means he’s either summoning everyone or…” Severus’s voice dwindled for a moment before pronouncing with dread, “…just me.”

            Dumbledore stood up with a determined glitter in his eyes. “Severus, I am very serious. I must ask you, under no circumstances, to leave the Hogwarts grounds, unless it’s to go to Hogsmeade- and only then in the company of either Minerva or Sirius. Do you understand?”

            Severus’ face was cold, not with anger but something akin to fear. “Yes, of course. But there has to be something I-”

            “Just keep me informed of when the Mark burns again,” he said. “Between that and Harry Potter’s scar, we have a decent warning system set up.”

            Severus slumped back in his chair. Sirius knew he was probably secretly infuriated at being placed upon the same level as Harry.

            “If there is nothing else,” said Dumbledore, “then you are all dismissed.”

 

* * *

 

            Severus and Sirius stood in the tiny corridor just outside Dumbledore’s office after McGonagall’s departure. Severus knew the Headmaster wished to speak to Sirius alone; nothing more was required of himself. Why did he choose to linger here? Part of him wanted to leave Sirius’ presence as soon as possible, and yet the other part…

            He resisted, but the words left his mouth without his consent.

            “I lied,” he confessed.

            Sirius gave him a funny look. “About what?”

            “I did miss you.”

            Severus turned and left without another word.


	3. Dumbledore's Discovery

            Severus was having trouble sleeping. This was not unusual, however tonight the reason why…

            He was startled by a rap on his door. He slid out of bed and opened it to find, as he had feared, his reason why waiting outside. He stepped aside, allowing the dog to enter his room. It changed to Sirius as soon as he closed the door. The man was trembling with bottled tension.

            “What are you doing here?” Severus asked disdainfully.

            “You invited me,” was the harsh reply.

            “I certainly did not!”

            “Well then what was your comment today supposed to mean?” he asked pointedly.

            Severus sneered. “You just want an excuse.”

            He seized the door handle. Immediately, Sirius pressed his weight against the door.

            “We need to talk.”

            “No, we don’t.”

            “Yes, we do!” he insisted, growling in frustration. “What are you doing to me, Snape? Drugging my food? Casting hexes? How could your spells reach me when I was in northern Europe?”

            “What?”

            “Well, it has to be you. Who else-”

            “Are you accusing me of casting love charms on you?” Severus asked more coolly then he felt. “Why would I ever make _you_ attracted to _me_?”

            “It’s just the sick sort of head game you love to play,” Sirius spat.

            “Yes, you would think that!” he retorted. “There is no measure to my loa-”

            Sirius cut him off. “If not you, then _who_? Who is doing this to us?”

            “‘Us’?” Severus repeated with distaste. “What ‘us’?”

            “You felt an attraction too, or you wouldn’t have said anything about missing me. Damn it, Severus, someone is trying to draw us together and it’s…” He lost all patience fumbling for the right word. “It’s repulsive! It’s the most disgusting thing- I can’t think of a more disgusting thing! I’d rather kiss both Pettigrew and Voldemort than-”

            Severus was not sure why he did it. He supposed it was because of a sudden, overwhelming desire to both anger and repulse Sirius as much as humanly possible. He put his arms around Sirius’ neck and kissed him so fiercely his teeth hurt.

            “There!” Severus snapped, drawing away. “Are you happy?”

            “No,” Sirius scoffed, then grabbed Severus by the waist. They toppled backwards onto his bed.

 

* * *

 

            Hermione rubbed her eyes and yawned as she silently crept into the Gryffindor common room. Harry was still seated in the armchair nearest the fire, as he had been since dinner, and gave a start at her approach.

            “Harry, what’s wrong?” she asked gently.

            “Sirius is back,” he replied glumly.

            Her brow furrowed. “But, that’s a good thing.”

            “But Snape…”

            “Oh, you’re not still hung up on that, are you? Listen, Harry, it was just a misplaced love potion. I’m sure of it-”

            Harry shook his head. His face was absolutely miserable.

            “No, Hermione, it wasn’t.”

            He held out to her a scrap of parchment, which she recognized as his Marauder’s Map. Over in the location of the teacher’s quarters, two dots were circling each other in a frenzy. One was clearly labeled “Sirius Black,” the other “Severus Snape.”

 

* * *

 

            Severus awoke the next morning and found himself alone. The surprise left a hollow feeling in his chest, but he soon plugged it up with rage.

            What was _wrong_ with him? How could he have possibly done- with Sirius Black! _Sirius!_ He despised him, hated him, still would love nothing more than to lock him back up in Azkaban and throw away the key… or better yet feed the key to Lupin and have the bloody werewolf choke on it… and yet he-

            He needed a bath.

            Severus sat up and surveyed his room. Last night’s damage was isolated to himself and the bed, however bits of his night robe littered the floor. Sirius had torn that to shreds… and Severus couldn’t remember if he had resisted or helped. Bruises, scratches, teeth and nail marks covered almost his entire body, but at least Black had gotten as good as he had given.

            How was Severus going to explain this to Madam Pomfrey? He realized that he couldn’t. He would have to let the bruises heal naturally, or prepare a serum on his own.

            _Well, at least I’m good at that_ , he thought as he got out of bed to wash up.

 

* * *

 

            “Mr. Potter, are you ill?” Severus demanded, towering over his desk.

            His student gulped. “Na- no, Professor.”

            “Did you swallow any of your potion?”

            One of his Slytherins laughed. Severus scowled. Even they were irritating him today.

            “No, Professor.”

            Severus did not think he was lying, but Potter was a nasty shade of green. On another day, he would have loved to see the boy stew in his own juices, but now not even that was pleasurable. With a sigh of irritation, he ordered, “Go to the nurse. You’re endangering the class.”

            Potter looked at him with absolute shock, then grabbed his bag and complied. A few Slytherins snickered.

            “Stop that!” Severus snapped. “There’s nothing funny about it and if I hear anyone snickering again I’m taking points away from Slytherin- and yes, I know that’s my own house!”

            He turned towards his desk and rubbed his face, which only irritated the bite on the side of his nose. Honestly, who bit someone on the side of the nose? At least it looked like fingernails.

            “Professor Snape?” he heard a hoarse voice call.

            Severus turned and saw Filch standing in the doorway. What was he doing here? He never came to this part of the dungeon; Severus kept it meticulously clean.

            “Yes?” he answered.

            “The headmaster wants to see you after classes.”

            Severus massaged his forehead. He felt a headache coming on.

            “Tell the headmaster I’ll come as soon as possible.”

 

* * *

 

            Severus arrived at Dumbledore’s office to discover he was not the only guest. Sirius stood off to the side, looking very guilty. Like Severus, his face was marred by red marks and bruises, but no bites.

            _At least I had the decency just to bite him on the shoulder_ , Severus thought and was instantly disgusted at himself.

            From behind his desk, Dumbledore stared at them keenly. The headmaster’s kindly face was stern and dismay, with a dash of anger, sparkled in his eyes.

            “I must say,” he began, “I am very disappointed. Severus, Sirius, we cannot afford to have you two act like schoolboys. Now, from the marks on your faces, and marks I expect are elsewhere on you, it’s obvious what happened. Would you both kindly explain why you were fighting?”

            Severus’s mouth went dry. He glanced at Sirius, who was likewise stricken with panic.

            “Headmaster, there’s a misunderstanding,” Severus said. “You see-”

            Sirius continued, “-we weren’t exactly fighting. It was an accident. We were-”

            “-experimenting,” he finished.

            Dumbledore’s face made it obvious he did not believe them. “Experimenting? With what?”

            “Positions,” Sirius replied, then hastily cried, “I mean potions!”

            Several tempting curses popped into Severus’ mind, and _Avada Kedavra_ was the least of them.

            “Positions?” Dumbledore asked. “Sirius, whatever do you mean?”

             “I can explain-”

            “No, you can’t,” muttered Severus.

            The headmaster stood up and sighed. “Well, gentlemen, this is an express railway to nowhere, but I am afraid I still do not have the time. Now, please explain, and if you find words make that difficult, I will allow you to both use my Pensieve.”

            Severus and Sirius gave each other the same look. Neither truly believed that the headmaster would go to that extreme, but still, they did not want anyone, not even themselves, to see _that_.

            Severus stepped forward and bravely ventured, “That won’t be necessary.”

            He began the story at October first, when Sirius had first approached him. Sirius only argued the detail of who had kissed whom first, but not for very long. Both wanted to get through the tale as swiftly as possible. As they spoke, a smile spread over Dumbledore’s face.

            “Lovely,” said the headmaster. “Not something I would have predicted or betted much money on, but lovely just the same. Keep it up.”

            Severus could not contain himself. “ _What?!_ ” he screeched.

            “You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Sirius.

            “Headmaster, we are both _clearly_ under the influence of Dark Magic! I mean, me and- Ugh,” Severus grimaced.

            Dumbledore shook his head, “No, I don’t think you are.”

            “But- but,” Severus sputtered, “you know our history! I _hate_ him! He tried to kill me!”

            “And you certainly tried to return the favor!” Sirius shouted. “‘Dementor’s kiss’ ring a bell?”

            “Quiet!” Dumbledore commanded loudly but calmly. “I am aware that you both hate each other, but hate and love can sometimes be the exact same thing. Now, you have my permission and my encouragement to continue seeing each other so long as it does not interfere with your work.”

            Severus shook his head. “I don’t believe this. I really don’t believe this… why would you think this is a good thing?”

            “For the first time, you two are getting along.”

            “Does it _look_ like we’re getting along?” he demanded. “He bit me on the-”

            “That,” Dumbledore said quietly, “is something I really don’t need to know, Severus.”

            Severus turned almost as purple as the headmaster’s robes.

 

* * *

 

            After leaving Dumbledore’s office, Severus headed directly for the dining room. He heard paw taps behind him and took a detour down an abandoned corridor. He whirled around and, sure enough, a black dog was at his heels.

            He glared at it sternly and spoke, “I don’t care what Dumbledore said. I am going to eat, then I am going to go back to my room and you are not going to join me and we certainly are _not_ going to do what we did last night!”

            Fate, however, never listened to anybody, not even Severus Snape. Everything against his wishes was precisely what happened.


	4. The Agreement

            “Why are we doing this?” Sirius moaned. “Oh, why, why, why- _Would you please stop that?_ ”

            With agonizing slowness, Severus dislodged his nails from Sirius’s back. How could they be so much longer- and sharper- than yesterday? Undoubtedly, Severus had brewed a special potion to make them grow.

            “We need to talk,” he said.

            Severus grimaced. “Oh, I hate the sound of your voice.”

            “Well, you seem to like other parts of me.”

            “It’s easy- there isn’t much of it.”

            “Very funny,” he retorted. Then he became serious. “Severus, why are we doing this? I mean, you- I- ugh…”

            Severus yawned and mumbled, “Dumbledore said to.”

            “Now who’s looking for an excuse?”

            Severus glared.

            “This isn’t healthy,” Sirius said. “And I don’t mean because I’m your personal scratching post. We can’t just keep randomly popping into bed-”

            “It hasn’t been random. This is the third night in a row.”

            “Gah!” he shouted. “You know what I mean! Look, every night we confront each other, insult each other, tell each other how much we hate each other and are disgusted by each other and what we are doing- and then we go and do it again! _Why?_ ”

            Severus was thoughtful for several moments before replying softly, “I can’t resist you.”

            “Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Sirius retorted sarcastically.

            “I am _serious!_ ” he bellowed. “I _CAN’T!_ I try and the Dark Mark starts to burn and my brain is on fire and I can’t think of _anything_ but getting close enough to tear you to bits- and always close in the wrong way! IT’S A SPELL!”

            Sirius was quiet for a minute before whispering, “The Dark Mark?”

            He had not thought of that, but he realized now that that _thing_ was pressed against his skin… He shuddered and shoved Severus away.

            “So it’s dark magic then?”

            “I believe so.”

            “But Dumbledore said it wasn’t.”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Then are we going to keep doing this?”

            Severus did not answer.

            “Well?” Sirius demanded. “ARE WE?”

            He glanced over at Severus’ face. The Potions Master looked like he wanted to vomit. “I think so.”

            Neither of them said anything for several minutes until Sirius spoke. “I don’t get it. I’m attracted to you, but I don’t find you attractive. I mean…gah, it’s not even like you’re good looking!”

            “Oh, I’m sorry,” Severus answered silkily. “Would you like me to wear lipstick and a red dress? Would that make it better?”

            “GAH!” Sirius screamed and nearly fell out of bed.

            “You really like that word, don’t you?” he dryly remarked.

            “Don’t _ever_ give me that mental picture again!”

            An awkward silence captured the room, broken when Sirius finally said, “I’m sorry.”

            “Oh, what for this time?” he snapped in exasperation.

            “Insulting your appearance.”

            “I really don’t care,” he answered frankly.

            Sirius gave him a funny look. “Why are you being so amicable?”

            “I’m not being amicable,” Severus retorted as if he were insulted.

            “By your standards you are.”

            “It’s because I’m tired. Goodnight.”

            Severus closed his eyes and seemed to doze off. Sirius squirmed away from him and lay in the darkness, pondering. Why was he here? In Severus’s room- _with_ Severus? The thought of what he had done tonight and the two previous nights made him nauseous- and yet he knew he would do it again.

            Severus said it was the Dark Arts. Dumbledore said it wasn’t. Sirius trusted Dumbledore _far_ more than Severus. If it was true…

             Sirius was never one to deny the truth. He shuddered to think what else might have occurred had he hesitated upon discovering Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater. It was the last thing he wanted to believe fourteen years ago, just like his attraction to Severus was the last thing he wanted to believe now. It was disgusting, but that did not change the fact that it _was_. It was the truth, whether he accepted it or not.

            “Severus!”

            Severus sat straight up and screamed, “WHAT?”

            “We need to talk.”

            Severus’s hands clenched and he flailed his arms exclaiming, “How many times are you going to say that!”

            “Damn it, listen! If we are going to keep on doing this- and don’t give me that look, because you _know_ we’re going to keep on doing this- we should _agree_ to do it. I mean be open about it to each other. No more denying we aren’t attracted because we _are_ attracted. Now, I still hate you and I’m sure that you still hate me, but do we really find each other so disgusting?”

            “Well…” Severus fidgeted. “I did a few a weeks ago…”

            “ _Severus._ ”

            “Fine!” he spat. “Fine! I don’t think you’re disgusting anymore, alright!”

            Sirius nodded. “Alright. And we agree- we’re going to do this willingly.”

            “Might as well,” Severus grumbled, but he did not sound like he believed it.

            “You realize what this means…”

            “Yes,” he replied with a mixture of dread and disgust. “We’re a bloody couple. Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.”

            “Going?”

            “Oh, _shut up!_ ” Severus snapped and hit Sirius in the face with a pillow.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius never lingered long after Severus had fallen asleep. A wise decision on his part, Severus reflected the next morning, because he would probably tear him limb from limb if he ever found him unconscious. He rubbed his nose. Sirius had bit him there again. What _was_ his fixation with his nose?

            Severus felt a roar of revulsion rise from his stomach. What had he just agreed to last night? To willingly accept a relationship with Sirius? A relationship based on what? A mutual desire to mutilate, if not kill, each other?

            How could Severus agree to that? How could one agree to something if one did not have a choice? Whatever spell he was under was not simply going to stop working because he did not like it. To agree was pointless. To agree- simply because he had no control- was cowardly. It was a cop-out method of coping rather than fixing the problem.

            Severus felt even more disgusted with Sirius. Forget their so-called agreement- he had said yes just to make Sirius shut up. He was not going to play along so Sirius could have a buffer for his fragile ego. He was going to resist and he was going to _fight_ whatever this thing was.

            But when the Dark Mark burned…

            Severus shook his head. No, he was in control, and he was going to break the spell.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius did not return to Severus’s room the next evening. Instead, he lay curled as a dog before the fire of the Gryffindor common room. Hermione Granger sat beside him, absentmindedly petting his head, as she studied her spell book. A few moments later, she glanced at her watch.

            “It’s midnight. I’ll go get Harry.”

            Sirius whimpered a small note of acknowledgement and she left him. Five minutes later, he heard footsteps from the boys’ dormitory. He glanced up and, spying his godson, changed into his human self.

            Harry smiled broadly as he looked upon his godfather, yet Sirius caught a glimmer of anxiety in his eyes. He naturally returned his gesture and they embraced warmly.

            “Hello, Harry.”

            “Hello, Sirius,” he replied. “I missed you.”

            They each took a seat in an armchair by the fire.

            “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Sirius apologized with a tinge of guilt. Whatever the matter was with Severus, it was no reason to neglect his godson. “I was… busy.”

            Harry accepted his words readily. “It’s alright. I understand.”

            They began to talk, mostly of Harry’s daily routine; Sirius inquired about classes, Quidditch, Hogsmeade, and- most important of all- his scar. He was relieved when Harry assured him that he had felt nothing, but he still sensed that something was amiss.

            “Harry, what’s wrong?” he asked gently. “Please tell me. It could be important.”

            Harry bit his lip. “It’s not anything about me, it’s just… your face. It’s all scratched up and I- I worry.”

            Sirius’ mouth went dry. How could he explain the reason to Harry? He did not understand it himself. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” he answered hesitantly. “But I’m alright. I’m safe. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself.”

            Harry nodded, but did not seem satisfied. “If there’s anything I can do-”

            “Keep up with your schoolwork. And Quidditch, of course,” he added. “Good luck with your game next week. I wish I could be there.”

            “But you can! You could morph and go with Ron and Hermione,” suggested Harry.

            He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I can’t. I just found out that I have to leave tomorrow. I’ll be back in a week. I promise, I’ll try to make it to one of your games this year. Now, you should go to bed.”

            “Alright. Goodnight, Sirius.”

            “Goodnight,” he replied, watching Harry leave the common room with a soft smile.

 

* * *

 

            Severus was setting up the ingredients for his next class when Sirius trotted into the room. What was that dog doing here? Didn’t he realize that it was much more dangerous than simply meeting him after class?

            _Well, if he gets caught, it’s not my problem_ , Severus decided.

            He continued to work, ignoring Sirius until he was human again and spoke, “I’m leaving in an hour for another mission, Severus. Dumbledore is sending me to check on Remus’s end of things. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner.”

            “Good,” Severus remarked coolly without looking up. “Then I can concentrate on finding a cure.”

            “Cure?”

            Severus set down the rest of the powder bottles on the nearest desk and turned around to face him. “I don’t believe Dumbledore. This is Dark Magic. Why else would I have anything to do with _you_?”

            Sirius narrowed his eyes. “We agreed…”

            “Oh please,” he sneered. “Agreed to what? Nothing- we said it just to comfort ourselves. We couldn’t stop if we tried. That’s what Dark Magic _does._ I still hate-”

            Much to his disgust, Sirius seized him by the arms and drew him into a passionate kiss. Severus jerked away.

            “What was that for!”

            “I… I don’t know.” Sirius’s eyes were distant. “It’s like I can’t control myself.”

            “That’s because you _can’t_!”

            Sirius kissed him again and this time he found himself giving in. His mind seemed to melt, but then his brain registered one last thought. _Two minutes to the bell._ In a panic, he pawed at Sirius, trying to push him away.

            “We can’t do this now- Sirius, I have a class coming-”

            “Not for another minute.”

            “But they’re Gryffindor fifth-years!”

            Sirius was so shocked he almost dropped him. “Harry.”

            “Exactly!” Severus declared, breaking away from his arms. “Do you want your godson to know-”

            He did not seem to hear him. He murmured to himself, “How will I explain this to Harry?”

            Severus violently seized him by the collar. “You’ll tell him nothing! Nothing!”

            “But, Severus-”

            “That brat has no reason to know there’s anything between us-”

            Sirius glared at him sharply. Angrily, he spoke, “Would you kindly refrain-”

            “From calling Potter a brat?” he finished for him. “He is one! And you ought to recognize-”

            Sirius swallowed Severus’s words with another kiss. Severus shoved him away.

            “Stop doing that!” he snapped.

            “Sometimes,” Sirius yelled, “it’s the only way to make you _SHUT UP_!”

            He turned on his heel to leave. Halfway to the door, he paused and called over his shoulder, “I hope you find a cure, Severus. Because I can’t live with myself if I have to live with you.”


	5. Impossible to Fall

            Sirius stared vaguely through kitchen window of Remus Lupin’s small cabin. He saw trees, birds, people… nothing really. He was not looking for anything.

            “…No, this is more than Harry,” Remus continued, brushing an odd lock of his brown, gray-flecked hair from his face. He looked a bit hairier than normal, and Sirius knew what that meant. “I understand you’re worried about Harry. I am, too. But you’ve been miserable the entire time you’ve been here.”

            He picked up his steaming goblet, took a sip, and made a face. “I’ll never get used to the taste of this.”

            “Is it as bad as it looks?” Sirius asked.

            “Worse,” said Remus. “I have to admit, the apothecary doesn’t make it as well as Severus did.”

            _Severus…_ That infernal man had been plaguing his mind ever since he left Hogwarts. He was still angry about their last conversation. Severus had every reason to apologize to him- so why did _he_ feel a need to make amends? Severus was at fault- why did _he_ feel guilty?

            Why did he feel anything? He had admitted to attraction, but that was not the same as emotion. Yes, he was attracted to Severus. He had forced himself to accept that, but surely he didn’t… he couldn’t…

            “Sirius?” Remus inquired strangely.

            He shook his head. “Mmm… what?”

            Remus’s visage revealed obvious concern. “You had a funny look on your face… the same kind you used to get around Emma Sinclair.”

            “Who?”

            “You know, Emma. From school. You took her to the Yule Ball twice.”

            “Oh, yeah,” Sirius replied, distracted.

            “Sirius?” he asked tentatively. “You’re not… in love with somebody? Are you?”

            “What? No!” he snapped and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, Remus. I’m just feeling a little out of sorts.”

            “It’s okay. I just wish you would tell me why,” he said. He drained the last of his goblet.

            “I really should head back to Hogwarts tonight…”

            Remus nodded. “Probably a good idea. It’s almost the full moon.”

            Sirius slumped over the table and said nothing. Then, a few moments later, he posed the question, “Do you think that love and hate can be the same thing?”

            “Sounds like something Dumbledore would say.”

            “He did say it.”

            Remus folded his hands. “So who are you in hate with?”

            “What?” he exclaimed. “I wasn’t talking about me!”

            Remus gave him a dubious look. “You’ve been morose and depressed ever since you arrived. I hate to say it, Sirius, but given your situation, you’ve picked a very bad time to fall in love.”

            He shuddered. “Oh, _yuck_. Remus… the mere suggestion-”

            Remus regarded him very strangely. “Now I _really_ wish you would explain.”

            But Sirius could not explain it to himself. _There is no way… no possible way in the world…_ He could not say it; he could barely bring himself to think it.

            _I can’t possibly be falling in love with Severus Snape._

 

* * *

 

            October twenty-eighth, Sirius found himself drumming his fingers against the conference table in the headmaster’s office. A single thought rattled through his brain so forcibly it had almost become a mantra.

_I am NOT falling in love with Severus Snape._

            He felt utterly disgusted that he had to remind himself.

            Off to the side, Dumbledore gazed into his Pensieve. Tapping his wand against his temple, he drew a silver string from his brain and fed it into the basin. After finishing the thread of thought, he looked up and remarked cheerfully, “I expect Minerva and Severus will be arriving shortly.”

            Sirius shook his head. “Albus, why don’t you think it’s the Dark Arts? I believe you, but… but nothing else makes sense!”

            “You are referring to yourself and Severus?”

            “Yes!” he exclaimed.

            Dumbledore smiled knowingly. “Sirius, love rarely makes sense.”

            “I am _not_ in love with Severus Snape!” he hissed and instantly felt ashamed at his tone. “I’m sorry, Albus. I didn’t mean to snap.”

            Dumbledore casually waved his hand as if brushing his offence aside. “It’s quite alright. You’re just getting used to the idea.”

            “I am _not_ ,” Sirius reaffirmed, looking the headmaster square in the eye. “I admit I am attracted. I don’t know why. I wish I wasn’t. But I do not _love-_ Almost every single teacher at Hogwarts gave me a detention one time or another for trying to punch in his nose! Does that sound like love?”

            “Well, biting his nose is in a similar category as punching it,” he remarked absentmindedly.

            Sirius’s eyes went wide. “How do you know-”

            “I don’t pry into your personal life, Sirius,” he assured him. “But teeth do leave marks.”

            An airy, melodic chime suddenly rang through the office.

            “Ah, that must be them now,” said the headmaster.

            Sirius nodded and rose from his seat. His wait was brief. A few moments later, McGonagall stepped into the room, greeting Dumbledore cordially. As a figure behind her began to emerge from the dim of the stairwell into the light, he closed his eyes and told himself, _Alright, I’m attracted to Severus. I’ve admitted as much. But that doesn’t mean I have to act on it. I just need a little more self control-_

            He felt heat on his eyelids. He lifted them to find Severus staring directly at him with a deep hatred brewing in dark cauldrons of his pupils. Hatred… and something else Sirius could not define. Similar emotions rushed through his own veins. He was overcome with the usual, intense loathing- and yet he felt in his heart a sudden, aching yearning.

            _This cannot be happening to me_ , he thought. _I cannot be falling in love-_

            Then, he realized with striking clarity that it was impossible for him to fall into love. He was already there.

 

* * *

 

            _Why?_

            The word rolled through Sirius’s mind the entire meeting.

            Why? Why Severus? Why now? Why not years before? Why…

            _Who kissed whom on October first?_ he wondered again.

            And why?

            Slowly he rotated his eyes towards Severus. The Potions Master was already staring at him. He shot Sirius a quick, dismissive sneer and darted his own eyes away. But Sirius did not do the same. He allowed his gaze to linger. Severus’s skin was sallow only in color. To the touch-

            _No_ , Sirius firmly chided himself. _Fantasize on your own time, not Dumbledore’s._

            Oh, God. He was fantasizing about Severus Snape. Snape! Of all people!

            Why wasn’t he repulsed by the idea? Why did he suddenly find his predicament hysterically funny? He was in love with Severus Snape. He had just become the butt of the most gigantic cosmic joke he had ever encountered.

            _I must be going insane_ , he thought. _I don’t understand this at all._

            Why?

 

* * *

 

            Whether the meeting went by swiftly or slowly, Sirius had no recollection. He had lost all perception of time. When it was over, he found himself alone in the corridor with Severus- precisely where he wanted to be.

            “Severus?” he inquired tentatively.

            Severus turned and scowled with lukewarm disgust. Sirius had expected as much, but he still was immediately frustrated. Was a normal relationship so much to ask? Their history combined with Severus’s personality made him suppose it was.

            He took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry we left things the way we did. Forgive me?” He still felt that Severus had more to apologize for, but knew better than to expect it of him.

            Severus replied with his usual half-sneer, “If you’re going to apologize each time, it’s going to become chronic.”

            Sirius decided to accept that as the equivalent of the response he would have preferred.

            “Did you find your cure?” he asked anxiously.

            Severus answered, “Unfortunately, no.”

            He nodded. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’m upset or not. I really couldn’t stop thinking about you-”

            His words became awkward under Severus’s cold glare. Sirius almost blushed. How stupid of him. Of course Severus did not feel the same; the only emotion they shared was hatred-

            Then he caught it. A flicker of a feeling he never would have believed Severus capable of- yet clearly it was there. Suddenly, he felt very angry.

             “Would you admit to something here?” he exclaimed. “I can’t be the one to make all the compromises-”

            “There is nothing to admit,” said Severus.

            “Your attitude is quite contrary to what we’ll do tonight.”

            “ _If_ we do it.”

            “You know we will.”

            “Are you always this arrogant, Black?”

            Sirius gritted his teeth. “I thought we agreed to stop playing mind games with each other. I thought we agreed to be frank,” he reminded pointedly.

            “I am being frank,” Severus retorted, then turned away.

            Sirius, his mouth still clenched, screamed at his departure. Why, why, why- of all people- had his deviant heart chosen Severus Snape?

 

* * *

 

            Sirius scratched his paw against Severus’s door. Would he let him in? Had he been serious outside Dumbledore’s office, or just his usual self?

            _No, I am certain what I saw in his eyes…_

            The door swung open roughly. Severus looked down at him, startled. “Sirius,” he whispered, then asked in his regular tone, “What do you want?”

            Sirius interpreted this as an invitation as he couldn’t very well tell Severus in dog form. He darted into the room and changed as Severus closed the door.

            “What do you want?” he asked again. “You have no business here.”

            “We-”

             “Need to talk?” Severus scowled. “About what? We have nothing to say.”

            “Yes, we _do_ ,” Sirius insisted. “Don’t you think we should _try_ to be nice to each other?”

            Severus squinted his eyes. “Are you ill?”

            “ _No._ Please stop being difficult!”

            “Why? In case you have forgotten, I don’t particularly like you,” Severus said dryly.

            “That’s not the point!” Sirius shouted, then took a deep breath to calm himself. “Severus, we can’t just have a relationship that’s purely physical.”

            “Our relationship _is_ purely physical,” he retorted.

            “Then it needs to change.” He stepped towards him…

            Fear sprung into Severus’s eyes. He jumped back and in a panic exclaimed, “No, stay away! If you don’t come near me, I can resist-”

            “We made an agreement-”

            “Damn the agreement!” he screamed. “It’s a coward’s agreement! I won’t accept that I can’t control this! I won’t pretend I’d do it anyway! Don’t you understand? Don’t you hate me, Sirius?”

            _Do I?_ he wondered. “Of course. But I have to put that aside-” _because my heart has already put that aside-_

            “No, you _don’t_!”

            “Severus, I thought it was the Dark Arts too!” he declared. “But after what Dumbledore said, I know it can’t be. As bizarre, as twisted, as disgusting as it seems even to me, I must really-”

            Severus slapped him. A strange rage was in his eyes as he reached for his wand. “Don’t say it! Don’t you dare-”

            “I will! You need to hear it!” Sirius exclaimed. “You always mangle the truth to fit your own twisted misconceptions! Damn it, I HATE YOU! Do you think I _want_ to LOVE YOU?”

            “No!” Severus cried. The quality of his tone was awkward. He seemed to crumple under Sirius’s gaze, but it was a brief moment of weakness. He straightened himself and with renewed fury he spat, “Love? You have no idea how many times these weeks I’ve gone over what happened in the Shrieking Shack a year and a half ago. If I had just acted sooner, I would I have had you. I could have sent you back to Azkaban!”

            It was a petty retort to which Sirius contemptuously replied, “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

            “You think I don’t? Don’t doubt me, Sirius! I could conjure a dementor to my side just to watch him kiss-”

            Sirius’ eyes became glassy. He was trapped in a memory of gray stretching twelve long years…

            “No…” he spoke, not to Severus, but to a fragment of a nightmarish reality he had never forgotten.

            “I would!” Severus whispered fervently. “Give me a reason. I swear I’ll do it.”

            Almost the same words he had spoken a year and a half ago…

            Why had he come here? How could he have been such a fool? Why did he feel any of what he had confessed?

            “Goodbye,” he said without tone.

            “What?”

            “It’s over,” Sirius said. He turned towards the door. Something inside him shattered and all he could think was, _Why?_

            Severus shouted malevolently at his back, “Well, good! If I had known that was all it took, I would have said it sooner!”

            Sirius opened the door. He wavered one moment, then changed into a dog. He supposed that was better. Dogs did not cry.


	6. Repulsion Potions

            Halloween came with the usual candy and chaos and levitating pumpkins of the holiday feast. Severus sat at the head table, between Sinistra and Vector, decidedly avoiding anything with sugar coating or content. His teeth were brown enough, thank you very much, without the necessity of actually rotting them.

            None of the food sat well with his stomach. It revolted at even an innocuous baked potato. There was a queasiness inside him, one that had begun three days ago and not yet ceased.

            What was wrong with him? Shouldn’t he feel relieved? He had seen neither hide nor hair of Sirius. Without his presence, there was nothing left that should fuel his sudden- and undoubtedly Dark- attraction to the man.

            Why then his sudden feeling of emptiness? Why the cloud of utter misery that had overcast him? This was what he wanted. Except for the obligatory meetings in Dumbledore’s office, Sirius was out of his life. All it had taken were a few venom-laced words. Why did he feel horrible about it?

            Why couldn’t he tear his mind from Sirius Black?

 

* * *

 

            After the feast, Severus did not go to bed; sleep had been impossible for the past nights anyway. He went directly to his office and riffled through his tomes of recipes. Within minutes, he located the desired list of potions and glanced at the ingredients. Each was stocked in his private larder. He opened the pantry and placed the necessary vials and jars on his desk, then turned on the burner under a ready cauldron. The chosen potion was complex, but there were few concoctions that Severus could not brew, although his Veritaserum usually curdled.

            _I should be making potions for the Ministry, not teaching a lot of dunderheads with about as much talent as Muggles_ , he reflected bitterly, not for the first time. For that, he had no one to blame but himself. He doubted Fudge would approve the appointment of a former Death Eater, and at least at Hogwarts- now that Moody was gone- he did not have a host of Aurors breathing down his neck.

            _And so my skills go to waste…_

            He shook his head. There were already enough foul thoughts in his mind for one evening.

            The potion was prepared in under an hour. Severus poured the serum directly into a clean goblet and raised it to his lips. He would break his attraction, if not through one method, then another. This was the strongest variety of repulsion potion he knew. If it failed to keep his thoughts from Sirius…

            He pushed the speculation aside. The potion would not fail him.

 

* * *

 

            That night Severus dreamt of Sirius. He woke up disgusted, dissatisfied, and empty.

            The repulsion potion could not have failed him. Could _not._ He must have made a mistake. Perhaps what he had brewed was not truly the strongest of the list. Anything was possible.

            Anything except that his heart truly meant what it seemed to feel.

            He tried another. And another. And another.

            None of them could plug the hole in his chest. None of them could stop him from remembering how, after all the biting and the scratching were done and he was thoroughly exhausted, he had collapsed in Sirius’s arms completely satisfied and content.

            He could not live like this- it might just kill him. Why didn’t he just hunt down Sirius and confess to him-

            Confess what? That he needed him? Even if it were true, Severus would never speak it. He had too much pride; he had hated Sirius too long and too deeply to conceive that that could ever change. He would rather die.

            If his heart ached…

            It was only Dark magic. Not himself.

 

* * *

 

            “…and after that, it was simply chaos!” Harry declared. “I don’t think Professor Flitwick will be able to teach class with a straight face again for days.”

            “Mmm,” his godfather made a small note of acknowledgement as he gazed impassively into the fire.

            “Sirius?” he asked. “I thought you would think that was funny.”

            Sirius gave a start in his chair. “Oh, I-” He massaged his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, Harry, I really am. I’ve just been feeling out of sorts.”

            “It’s- it’s okay,” Harry said. “I understand.”

            He had a feeling he understood too well. Little more than a week ago, just before Halloween, the dots had stopped appearing together on his Map. He had assumed the problem had resolved itself, yet now…

            Ever since the start of November, there had been a strange quality to Sirius’s eyes. They were empty. Not deadened, as they had been the night Harry first met him, but simply empty. Sirius was a Seeker without a broomstick, watching the Snitch hover above with the hopeless despair that nothing in his power would ever enable him to capture it.

            _Please say that’s not it. Please say this has nothing to do with Snape._

He had the horrible suspicion that it did.

 

* * *

 

            Severus felt a wave of nauseous protest rise from his stomach. He clutched his abdomen, raised his eyes to the ceiling of the Great Hall, and tried to swallow-

            No, it was not working. He was not going to able to keep it down. Abruptly, he shoved his seat away from the faculty table and rose, turning towards the nearest exit.

            “Severus?” someone tugged at his sleeve. McGonagall.

            He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

            McGonagall’s eyes revealed solicitous concern. “Severus, you look pale.”

            “I’m fine, Minerva,” he assured her sharply, yanking his sleeve from her grip.

            “Severus-”

            “I said I’m fine!” he snapped.

He began to storm from the hall, then stopped. He must take lighter steps. He felt so dizzy that if he pounded too forcefully, he might stumble over his own feet…

Forget stepping; he could not keep it down much longer. He ran to the nearest faulty bathroom and fumbled with the doorknob. It proved a challenge to open, as his palms were sweaty again; why hadn’t he noticed that?

            He could not hold back his stomach any longer; he threw his dignity to the wind and launched himself at the toilet. He clutched the rim of the bowl and heaved. Nothing, he decided, could be worse than the taste of vomit on his tongue, except possibly the tang of Sirius’s sweat-

            _Don’t think about it_ , he ordered himself.

            He glanced into the bowl. How could there be so much? He had only eaten a bread roll and he knew that last night’s dinner could not possibly be in there, for it had formerly met the same fate as this morning’s breakfast. When was the last time he had actually been able to keep down a meal? Five, six days ago, was it? And why was the mess in the toilet slightly pinkish? Vomit was brown…

            Weakly, his hand flicked the flusher and he slumped next to bowl, listening to the sound of the water draining. What month was it? November? Maybe it was December by now. He could not precisely recall; the days were blurring together and he felt lightheaded again. It would pass. Should pass, but it had not yesterday. He had still made it through his classes, but…

            He probably looked as sick as he felt, which meant his face roughly translated into hell. He wondered if anybody noticed. He had not particularly noticed anybody lately; the world was spinning far too fast for that…

            He hoped no one suspected. He doubted anyone did. He was a Potions Master. Surely, he knew not to mix repulsion potions together because their ingredients were not completely compatible and often produced strange reactions. Surely, he knew that by increasing the dosages, he ran the risk of inadvertently poisoning himself…

            His head slid from the bowl to the floor and he moaned. He knew. He knew very well what he was doing to himself, but single doses of the individual potions had not worked and on the eleventh of November, when the last variation of the medicament had failed him, he had seen no other choice.

            His heart was racing again. That was not good, but it was acceptable. Better that than that he should think-

            _It isn’t working_ , he realized. _It isn’t working!_

            How could it _not_ work? What had the recipe book said? Unless a powerful enchantment were counteracting the potions or the feelings stemmed from actual love…

            Well, that decided it. It had to be the Dark Arts. There was nothing else.

            _Get out of my head!_ he ordered.

            He would not plead, not with Sirius Black, or any specter of the man haunting his mind.

 

* * *

 

            “…Rejuvenation Drafts are not dangerous if brewed properly, however, certain ingredients must be handled- Potter and Longbottom, you two had better be listening!” Snape threatened completely out of the blue.

            Harry sat rigidly straight in his chair. Why was Snape singling him out this time? He hadn’t so much as squeaked!

            “Snape looks like he could use a Rejuvenation Draft himself,” Ron whispered.

            Harry had to agree. The Potion Master’s face was pale, and not in his usual sour-milk tone, but a ghostly white. His movements were jittery and he was notably losing weight, quite a feat considering he had not had much of it to begin with.

            Snape’s voice droned on, “…take care to grind the pellwig seeds finely. It would be quite tragic if one of you should happen to develop a permanent twitch…”

            _Oh no, he’s going to make us drink these things!_ Harry realized.

            “…and as lanlead pellets are known to explode when shaken-”

            Snape’s voice abruptly stopped. The professor’s eyes became unfocused and he suddenly clutched his left arm.

            No one said anything for several minutes until Draco Malfoy, one of the few people Snape wouldn’t snap back at, asked, “Professor, are you alright?”

            Snape blinked and took a step. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I am-”

            He fainted.

 

* * *

 

            Severus felt dazed and startled by the light. Where was he? The dungeon was never this bright. He glanced about and realized he was lying on a bed in the Infirmary. He heard footsteps approach and, shortly, Albus Dumbledore stood beside him.

            “How do you feel, Severus?”

            He hesitated. He wanted to answer “fine,” but that was not the truth.

            “Ill. How long have I-”

            “A few hours,” he answered. “I’ve spoken with Poppy. You’ve been mixing potions together, Severus?”

            Severus closed his eyes and nodded. “Repulsion,” he admitted.

            “Why? Severus, you’re the Potions Master. You understand how dangerous that is,” Dumbledore softly chided.

            “I know,” he answered miserably, “but…” The words escaped before he could stop them. “Albus, I was going mad! I couldn’t stop thinking about Sirius! I hate him!”

            “Of course you do,” Dumbledore replied. “You’re in love.”

            Severus shuddered. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Yet…

            “There’s someone else who wants to see you,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll tell Poppy to give you privacy.”

            The headmaster left and Severus heard light tapping across the floor. A figure emerged from another form beside him. Sirius. He looked down at Severus with bleary eyes and wordlessly took his hand in his.

            “Sirius…” Severus whispered. “I…” He had to say it. He swallowed, choking down a small bit of his pride. “I’m sorry for all the horrible things I’ve said.”

            Sirius looked shocked. “What?”

            “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

            Sirius did not know what to make of it. “It’s- it’s alright…”

            “No, it’s not,” he scoffed. “Look, I’m only being nice because I’m sick…”

            Sirius could not suppress a soft chortle.

            He continued, “…I just couldn’t accept the way you made me feel after… after everything. But you could do it right away. And you were willing to put up with me. You saw we couldn’t change it… but I couldn’t- I couldn’t-”

            “Shh,” Sirius gently patted his arm. “It’s alright.”

            “No, it’s NOT!” he exclaimed.

            “Severus, don’t exert yourself.”

            He sighed. “Listen, like I said, I’m only being nice because I’m sick. I’ll probably never be this nice to you again. I’m still going to snap at you and be generally disagreeable, because that’s just who I am. And I still hate you, of course. That will never ever change. But I don’t think this is Dark magic anymore and I…”

            He trailed off. Part of him did not want to say it. Once he admitted it, there was no turning back. He would never be quite the same Severus Snape that he was at this precise moment.

            “I really think I adore you.”

            Sirius grinned. “I like you when you’re sick.”

            “Yeah?” Severus muttered. “Well, enjoy it while it lasts.”

 

* * *

 

            The door opened before Sirius’s paw even tapped it; Severus must have set a ward to detect his presence. He entered and morphed. The light of the _Lumos_ -bulb in the room was dim, but enough to distinguish the pale tone of Severus’s skin, which had yet to regain its full sallow hue.

            “Sirius,” Severus croaked.

            He grasped for the clasp of Sirius’s robes in a manner which made his intent obvious. His hands never reached that far; he collapsed and Sirius caught him by the waist, bracing him.

            “No,” he said. “You’re still too weak.”

            Severus felt thin, much more so than before; his frame was almost as slight as Sirius’s own had been the night he had slipped through the bars of his cell in Azkaban.

            _He’s so fragile I could break him with just my hands_ , Sirius realized, alarmed at the thought.

            He led Severus to the bed and, after he had secured the Potions Master under the coverlet, slid in beside him. As he wrapped his arms again around Severus’s waist, he suddenly felt himself of two minds. The Sirius which he had been fully before October angrily demanded what he was doing, while the Sirius he was not quite sure he was now pondered if he should be doing something more.

            This was what he wanted, but he was not completely comfortable with it. He wondered if he ever would be.

            “Sleep, Severus,” he whispered. “I…” His voice suddenly cracked. “I’m here.”


	7. Peeves Pushes the Plot

            The dots had reappeared together on Harry’s map.

            Harry could not stand to think of what was happening between Snape and Sirius. It was beyond comprehension and completely unnatural- and not because Snape and Sirius were both men. He did find the idea of two men in love a bit weird, but he could accept it. No, the problem was Snape. Sirius _hated_ Snape. Why would he-

            Harry shuddered to think of it.

            It had to be magic and no mere love potion, but an enchantment of a dark and vile nature. He had only one determination in mind: to save Sirius.

            Unfortunately, there was nowhere and no adult to which to turn. His only resources were the dedication of his friends and the Hogwarts archives. At the start of December, he, Hermione, and Ron began a systemic search of the library.

 

* * *

 

            “ _Would you stop biting my nose?!_ ”

            Sirius jerked his face away from Severus.

            “Honestly!” Severus ranted. “What is your fixation with my nose?”

            “It’s such a… funny shape,” Sirius teased.

            “Is not,” he said sourly. “There’s nothing wrong with my nose- except that you keep trying to eat it.”

            “Well, you always bite me on the shoulder,” he countered. “What about your fixation with _that_?”

            “It is not a fixation,” he retorted. “It is perfectly normal…” His voice trailed off.

            “…for people to bite other people on the shoulder?” Sirius finished.

            “Oh, shut up.”

            “A bit snippy this evening, aren’t we?”

            “I’m always snippy,” said Severus. He laid his head on Sirius’s chest, draping his left arm across him. It was tied with a bandage to hide the Dark Mark, which, according to Severus, had not burned since the day he fainted. “Oh, I hate you…” he murmured, closing his eyes.

            Sirius idly caressed Severus’s arm as he laid in the darkness and pondered at the changes he had witnessed in the Potions Master. Although his quips were as snide as ever, they were fewer and were playful rather than nasty. Except for some odd bites on the shoulder and a single scratch on the cheek, he was much less violent, but that might merely be because he was still weak

            In the three weeks since Severus had fainted, Sirius’s life had become fairly normal- at least, as normal as the life of an escaped convict from Azkaban who spent his days as a dog and his nights making love to the most disagreeable professor at Hogwarts could be. None of that was to say doubt did not linger in his mind. He barely understood the circumstances which had brought him and Severus together. Where had their attraction come from? If it was so strong, why had they not felt it years before? And most importantly, who had kissed whom on October first?

            As he held Severus’s head against his heart, a gesture he had never dreamed he would share with the Potions Master, he wondered if the answers truly mattered. Although it contradicted every previous sentiment he had held towards the man, he truly felt content with Severus in his arms.

            He yawned and began to nod off when he heard a loud crash outside the door.

 

* * *

 

            Severus awoke with a start. He sprung from the bed, ignoring that doing so dug his heel into Sirius, and snatched up his wand. With a wave, he called out, “ _Gossmere!_ ” A set of black robes materialized onto his body.

            “Get dressed,” he ordered Sirius, scooping a gray bundle off the floor and tossing it to him. He gave him just enough time to pull on his robes before flinging open the door.

            Outside, someone had taken a Quaffle from one of the Quidditch teams and decided to play bowling with a set of gargoyles. Severus frowned. Whatever student had done this would soon regret crossing ways with Hogwarts’s Potion Master. As he glanced down the hall, he wondered if the culprit could be Potter. He had caused a similar ruckus with a large egg last year, Severus was sure of it. Unfortunately, thanks to Potter’s invisibility cloak…

            Severus suddenly heard ghostly laughter from above his head. Peeves!

            _I’ll kill that poltergeist!_ he thought irrationally. He actually _did_ know a spell that would send Peeves, or any ghost, to a permanent grave but would never for more than a brief flight of fancy consider casting it within Hogwarts. Certain things not even Dumbledore would tolerate.

            Peeves, who hovered near the ceiling, stopped snickering as soon as he saw Severus’s wand pointed straight at him.

            “I don’t believe this is the first time I’ve had to teach you a lesson,” Severus said coldly.

            Peeves’s smile went slack, but it took Severus a moment to realize it had nothing to do with his threat.

            “Behind you, Professor!” he shrieked. “Sirius Black!”

            Peeves soared off in a dizzying spiral shouting, “Sirius Black! Sirius Black! He’s at Hogwarts! Sirius Black!”

            Severus spun on his heel and snapped at a panic-stricken Sirius, “Morph _now_.”

            Sirius needed no second warning.

            Severus sprung into the hall, a canine Sirius after him, and swiftly slammed shut the door. Around him, the other professors dashed from their quarters with worried murmurings. Severus elected himself in charge before anyone else had a chance.

            “Sprout, McGonagall, Flitwick! Go check on your Houses,” he ordered brusquely. “Where is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Sinistra! Make yourself useful and check on the Slytherins for me- _I_ will report this to Dumbledore.”

            Madam Trelawney, bedecked in bangles even in her star-spangled night robe, stepped into the center of the ring that had formed around Severus. Placing her hand against her forehead, she swooned, and pronounced in an eerie treble, “Oh, what a fool I was to keep silent! I had foreseen this would occur-”

            “Yes, very nice, Sibyll,” Severus said dryly.

            “- Oh, I knew the heir to the Dark Lord would return-”

            Severus glanced down at the shaggy dog beside him. A most impressive heir, indeed.

            McGonagall stepped forward. “Yes, Sibyll, well then, please check on my Gryffindors for me. I think I had better go with Severus…” she said. Spying Sirius, she remarked, “Oh, look, Hagrid’s watchdog. I think he should go with us, too, don’t you, Severus?”

            “Mmm,” Severus smiled nastily. “Yes, thank you, Minerva…”

            He turned away from the other professors as if disgusted with the whole lot and stalked after McGonagall.

            “What happened?” she whispered as they passed through the halls.

            “Sirius and I were talking in my quarters. Peeves caused a crash; I opened the door and he saw him,” he explained quickly, clearly indicating he thought it none of McGonagall’s business.

            McGonagall was unfazed, but did not question further. She and Severus had an understanding due to their manners; both acted stern and aloof, however, unlike McGonagall, Severus really _was_ the way he behaved.

            They stopped before the large, ugly gargoyle blocking the passage to Dumbledore’s office.

            “Fizzing Whizbees,” McGonagall said, and the wall split, revealing a spiral staircase. They ascended to the headmaster’s chambers.

            Dumbledore was already awake and dressed to greet them. He nodded at Sirius, who resumed his human form.

            “We have a problem,” said McGonagall. “Sirius has been spotted.”

            “By whom? And where?” Dumbledore asked.

            “By Peeves and… I believe in your bedchamber, Severus?” she asked, her tone either uncertain or suggestive.

            Dumbledore pursed his lips and gave Severus a concerned look. “Your bedchamber?” he repeated, feigning confusion for McGonagall’s sake.

            Severus took a deep breath. “Yes, well…” he began stiffly. “Sirius and I had a small detail to discuss, which we were, when we heard a crash. Naturally, I opened the door to see the matter and found Peeves playing with a Quaffle.”

            The Headmaster’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “Yes, I see… Minerva, go and arrange some search parties. In about an hour or so, I’ll announce it was a false alarm. I need to speak with Severus and Sirius privately.”

            McGonagall nodded. “Of course, Albus,” she replied and left.

            After her departure, Dumbledore turned to Sirius. “What were you doing in Severus’s room?”

            Sirius shifted nervously. “Well… ah… I… we…”

            “Were experimenting again?”

            “Ah, yes,” he replied.

            Severus’s mouth twitched.

            Dumbledore shrugged. “Nothing unusual about that. However, gentlemen, I said you could continue to meet so long as it did not interfere with your work and this, quite clearly, is interference.”

            Sirius clutched Severus’ hand. Severus roughly shoved it away.

            “So then,” he continued, “there is a small cabin behind the castle, just on the edge of the forest. As soon as possible, Severus, I want you to move into it.”

            Severus blinked. “What?”

            “Obviously, it’s impractical for you to continue to meet inside the school,” said Dumbledore. “The cabin would be less risky and much more convenient, as it would provide a place for Sirius to stay. You know, I’m rather surprised I didn’t think of it before.”

            “Wa- Why are you doing this?” Severus stammered. “Our relationship is a hazard to Hogwarts- it’s a hazard to ourselves. And I- I’m Head of House Slytherin. I need to be inside the castle…”

            “I have no intention of separating the two of you,” Dumbledore pronounced firmly and earnestly. “Severus, this is the first time in years I have seen you truly happy.”

            Severus opened, but then quickly shut, his mouth. For the first time since James Potter spiked his pumpkin juice with Pigment Potion when they had been second-years, he turned a bright, angry red.


	8. The Christmas Quiz

            Severus vacated his quarters inside the castle and, by the nineteenth, moved in with Sirius. Their cabin was larger than Hagrid’s hut, but still quite cozy. The first floor had a separate living room and kitchen, in which Severus installed a special cabinet for his potion ingredients. Upstairs was a single bedchamber and several smaller rooms for storage, all of which Severus claimed. Sirius had very few possessions and he was a bit afraid of several of Severus’s trunks, which were enchanted with enough curses to kill half of House Hufflepuff and probably contained objects beyond foul. After unpacking, they employed the bed for the obvious purpose, then fell asleep pleasantly exhausted.

            Sirius awoke alone the next morning. The absence of a warm body beside him gave him a start, but he quickly calmed and dressed. Robed and slippered, he padded downstairs, through the living room, into the kitchen, uncertain what- if anything- was stocked in the pantry for breakfast.

            He hardly anticipated stumbling upon Severus levitating a frying pan, eggs, butter, toast, some spices, and several small flames above the stove.

            “What are you doing?” he asked groggily.

            “Cooking,” Severus answered sharply, without turning.

            Sirius yawned. “Why?”

            “Somebody has to and I don’t expect you to be able to do it.”

            Sirius wondered if Severus meant to be snide or only spoke that way because he had forgotten how else to talk.

            “Is there anything I can do to help?”

            “Not really. Set the table.”

            Sirius removed plates and utensils for two from the cupboard. “You don’t seem like the type of person who would eat eggs,” he commented idly.

            “I don’t,” said Severus. “It’s part of the diet Pomfrey put me on.”

            “How much weight did you lose?”

            Severus shrugged.

            “Really,” he prodded.

            “Enough so that my robes don’t fit anymore- why do you care?” Severus snapped.

            Sirius placed his head on his shoulder, embracing him from behind. “I think that should be obvious,” he whispered in his ear.

            “Oh, don’t get mushy,” Severus groaned, but Sirius caught the hint of a smile on his face.

            Sirius squeezed him, then drew away. “Actually, I need to tell you something. You’re not going to like it, but…”

            Severus looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “What?”

            He took a deep breath. “I won’t be here tonight. I’m going to Gryffindor Tower. I’m going to tell Harry about us.”

            Two eggs dropped from mid-air and broke on the floor. Severus started trembling.

            “That br- that _boy_ has no right-”

            “The only reason I’m comfortable with leaving our relationship a secret is that it’s dangerous!” Sirius exclaimed. “If I wasn’t wanted by the Ministry of Magic, there’d be no excuse-”

            “So, why don’t you just send a Howler to _The Daily Prophet_ about it!” Severus shouted. “Oh, Rita Skeeter would love _that!_ ”

            Sirius tried to remain calm as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Harry is my godson and he should know, especially since this could be permanent.”

            “We’ve been together less than a month,” he scoffed. “How is _that_ permanent?”

            “I consider our relationship to have started early October.”

            “You mean with that kiss that repulsed us so much?” he retorted.

            Sirius shrugged uneasily. “It was a start,” he said, then spoke firmly, “Severus, I’m telling him _tonight_.”

            Severus spun back towards the stove. The flames suddenly extinguished and the plates and pans landed with clank. “Fine. _Whatever_.”

            He stormed out of the room. Sirius followed, calling, “Where are you going?”

            “Class.”

            “But you haven’t eaten.”

            Severus opened the front door. “Who cares?”

            “ _I_ do! Pomfrey warned you! You’ll faint!”

            “Good!” Severus snapped, and slammed the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

            Harry let out a long breath as he flopped into an armchair. It had been a difficult day and double Potions in the afternoon had not helped. Every time he looked at Snape, his mind betrayed him, conjuring mental images that completely nauseated him. Something evil was behind his godfather’s lust affair; he was certain of it.

            Precisely at midnight, the familiar black dog strolled into the common room. Sirius took his human form and stood next to the chair across from Harry, tensely gripping its back.

            “Hello, Harry,” he said, smiling weakly.

            Harry stood up. He did not feel comfortable sitting if Sirius was not. “Hello.”

            “How were classes today?”

            “Oh, the usual,” he shrugged. “McGonagall turned Ron into a toad during Transfigurations. And the Divinations teacher still thinks I’m going to be impaled next Tuesday.”

            Sirius laughed and asked nonchalantly, “How was Potions?”

            “It was fine,” he said. Actually, it had been anything _but_ fine, but he was no longer sure how to mention Snape to Sirius.

            Sirius nodded. “Uh…” he began softly. “Harry, did you hear that Professor Snape moved out of the castle yesterday?”

            “Yes. Everyone’s wondering why.”

            “Well…um…” He sighed and turned his eyes askance. “I don’t quite know how to tell you this. You see, Sev- _Snape_ and I, we…”

            “I know,” Harry whispered.

            Sirius looked up. “Know what?”

            “Well, I-” he began hesitantly, then stopped. There was no point in fumbling. After all, it was still Sirius. “October first, I left my bag in class and when I went to get it I saw you and Snape… err…”

            “Ye-es?” Sirius prodded timidly.

            _Just say it._ “Kissing.”

            Sirius’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

            “I’m sorry if I should have said something,” he hastily apologized. “I-”

            Sirius shook his head. “No, no, it’s alright. I’m rather glad you didn’t. I wouldn’t have known how to explain- I still don’t know how to explain…”

            “Do you and Snape… uh…” Harry could scarcely believe he was asking the question. “Uh… you know.”

            Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Now is that really an appropriate question, Harry?” he admonished, then answered, “Yes.”

            “Oh,” he said. He suddenly felt very ill. It was one thing to watch dots on a map- it was entirely different to have verbal confirmation.

            “I just wanted you to know,” said Sirius. “I don’t expect you to treat Snape any differently… God only knows _he_ wouldn’t return the favor.”

            Harry smiled weakly. At least his godfather still had an accurate estimation of the Potions Master.

            “Alright. It’s alright.”

            Sirius patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for understanding, Harry.”

            But Harry didn’t understand at all and in that moment, felt only guilt.

 

* * *

 

            Severus hated Christmas. It was a empty holiday that did nothing but lighten his purse purchasing presents for acquaintances unworthy of being called friends and clutter his quarters with useless gifts that only proved how little the sender knew or cared to discover about him.

            The students were positively insufferable. The per capita consumption of sugar reached a peak only matched at Halloween, attention spans dwindled by the meter, and more cauldrons melted than at any other time during the year.

            A litany of foul thoughts ran its course through his mind as he stalked the classroom. With two days until vacation, only Miss Granger had the patience to watch Rimweld’s Remedy simmer; no one else had bothered to note when or how to adjust their burners, resulting in the frothing mess overflowing most of the desks.

            The puddles bubbling on the floor fed Severus’s ire, but they were not its origin. The source was, as usual and- it seemed- always, Potter. The moment their eyes had met at the start of class, Potter’s skin tinged green and his face faintly screwed with what could only be interpreted as nausea.

            _Goddamn you, Sirius Black!_ Severus thought with indignant rage. What right did the boy have to judge him or whom he chose to bed? What right did any of these brats have to dismiss him as merely a foul, greasy schoolteacher and assume nothing more to him?

            He had a sudden urge to punish them all with a nasty, lengthy assignment due after the holidays, but realized it would only confirm their beliefs.

            The glimmer of a thought crept into his mind. Slowly, it expanded and took form, pleasing him the more he pondered it. It was a perfect, sweet revenge that would not only satisfy his inner sadist and induce a lasting paranoia in the children, but also prove they did not know everything about their Potions Master.

            “Tomorrow, there will be quiz,” he suddenly announced. “When you enter class, you will find several marked, but unlabeled, bottles at your desk along with a parchment of instructions. You are to follow those directions explicitly and then tell me what you have brewed. Do take care not to blow yourselves up- especially you, Potter. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened in October.”

            Potter’s cheeks flushed from green to red and Draco Malfoy snickered.

            “Five points from Slytherin for that, Malfoy!” Severus snapped. A small Christmas present for himself; he had never really liked the boy and now that the Death Eaters knew he was false, he saw little reason to keep up appearances for Lucius’s sake.

            Draco let out a sound somewhere between a yelp and peep. Pristine shocked covered his pale, pointed face.

            As Potter swerved around to stare, Severus sharply reprimanded, “Potter! Don’t gawk- I believe you’ve been punished the same numerous times before.”

            Potter gulped, but managed to utter audibly, “Yes, sir.”

            Severus raised an eyebrow. “How magnanimous of you to say so.”

            The bell rang.

 

* * *

 

            “I don’t believe it!” Ron exclaimed as he rushed through the halls alongside Harry and Hermione. “Oh, Snape was really mad- he took points from Slytherin!”

            “What I can’t believe,” countered Hermione, “is this quiz tomorrow. The last day of class before vacation! And isn’t it awfully dangerous not to tell us what the ingredients are? There has to be a rule against it!”

            “We should find it.”

            Hermione shook her head. “Can’t. We’ll have to study all night so we can identify our potions, or we’ll never hope to pass!”

            “Pass?” Ron asked. “I’m more worried about surviving! We all should, especially you, Harry. You _know_ Snape’s going to give you something deadly.”

            “Mmm…” Harry frowned queasily and shrugged.

            “Harry?” Hermione asked. “What’s wrong?”

            Harry bit his lip. “Can we go someone private? I- I really need to talk to you two about what Sirius told me last night.”

 

* * *

 

            The Gryffindors and Slytherins entered Snape’s classroom to find it exactly as promised: at each desk was an already steaming cauldron and several, multiple colored, but unmarked, bottles. Harry glanced at his parchment. The directions appeared relatively simple, only requiring him to mix a bit of this and that, but there was no telling what was in the bottles. He personally expected something foul.

            Hermione was the first to begin mixing. She opened a bottle, releasing a surprisingly pleasant, minty scent. The other students followed suit and began. As Harry glanced about him, it seemed as if everyone had the same ingredients and directions. The potion, whatever it was, was easy to make. Even Neville could do it.

            The mixture took five minutes to prepare but over thirty to brew and everyone sat in perfect silence as they waited. Harry glanced apprehensively into his cauldron. It was filled to brim with viscous white fluid that did not remotely resemble anything he had ever made in one of Snape’s classes.

            Finally, with less than two minutes to the bell, Snape asked, “Well? Do any of you have the slightest clue as to what you have made?”

            A desperate Hermione bravely stuck her finger into the cauldron and tasted it. “It’s… why, it’s…”

            It was liquid peppermint candy.

            Snape leaned against his desk with a twisted grin across his face. Everyone stared at him as if he had gone mad.

 

* * *

 

            Hermione’s hand trembled slightly as a single droplet fell from the vial to her cauldron. A small puff of purple smoke rose from the surface of her peppermint concoction.

            “Well, it’s not poisonous,” she said. “And…” She picked up another vial. This time the smoke was blue. “…it’s not enchanted.”

            “Bishop to E5,” Ron said. “I still wouldn’t drink it. Check, Harry.”

            Harry blinked and stared grimly at the chessboard.

            “Move the knight,” Hermione said.

            Ron frowned. “You’re not supposed to help!”

            “Oh, come on, Ron! It wouldn’t hurt to let Harry win for once,” she said. “And I’m sure the peppermint is fine. I brewed the Dateta Serums myself.”

            Ron gave her a funny look and shrugged.

            “It’s _fine_ ,” she insisted. “See?” She stuck a spoon into the cauldron and took a sip. “Actually, it’s quite good.”

            Ron stared as if she might at any moment turn into a toad.

            “Oh, listen!” she exclaimed. “Snape wouldn’t poison us-”

            “He threatened to last year,” Harry reminded.

            “Yes, but that was to test antidotes. If something happened to us, especially Harry, Dumbledore would be upset and _Sirius_ would be upset-”

            A familiar Quaffle of sickness dropped into Harry’s stomach.

            “Hermione,” he said, “I still can’t find anything in the library to explain why Snape and Sirius would suddenly… well… I need some way to get into the restricted section.”

            Hermione bit her lip and pondered. “I _think_ I have an idea… but it will have to wait until after Christmas. I’m leaving in an hour,” she said, gesturing towards her suitcase.

            Harry nodded. “That’s fine.”

            It really wasn’t, but he did not have a choice.


	9. Dragon's Heart

            “Sirius!” Severus called, placing his cauldron full of liquefied peppermint on an empty end table. “Are you home?” _Where else would he be?_

            Slowly, a black dog slinked into the room.

            “I wish you wouldn’t be an animal in the house. You’ll shed on things.”

            The dog made no acknowledgement but to morph. Sirius gave him a wary smile and said softly, “Hello, Severus? Good day at school?”

            “One of the better ones,” he replied, then paused. He had something to say which he dearly did not want to speak. He still felt that he was right; Potter’s behavior in class emphasized the point. Yet, he doubted Sirius would budge on the issue and the man’s words from months ago echoed in his head:

            _“I can’t be the one to make all the compromises…”_

            No, Severus supposed Sirius could not and it was unfair of him to expect it.

            _I’m doing this only for your sake, Sirius_ , he thought grudgingly, _not because I mean it. I want some hope of a pleasant Christmas._

            He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

            Sirius blinked. “For… what?”

            “For getting mad at you. It’s only natural you would want to tell your godson about… us.”

            Sirius’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Wow.”

            “What?”

            “I didn’t expect you to apologize.”

            Severus shrugged and for a moment looked sheepish. “It’s a nasty habit I’ve picked up from you.”

            Sirius grinned. “Yeah, sure.”

            “Damn it, I’m not exactly good with this. Do you… forgive… me?”

            “Of course.”

            Severus scowled. “Oh, I hate that about you.” He gestured towards his cauldron. “Peppermint?”

 

* * *

 

            Dumbledore sent a pine tree festooned half with silver and green and half with gold and red baubles, Christmas- and incidentally also Slytherin and Gryffindor- colors. Severus spent a few hours casting the proper enchantments and on Christmas morn, a pile of presents apparated beneath the tree. Most were small trinkets the teachers sent each other; they were, of course, for Severus. Dumbledore gave them a set of twin glass goblets, each stuffed with a thick woolen sock.

            “I don’t get it…”

            “Maybe it’s a metaphor.”

            “Shut up.”

            Harry, Hermione, and Ron sent Sirius a few housewarming presents, including the cookbook _One Minute Feasts- It’s Magic_. Severus, who did not at all trust him with household chores, quickly confiscated it. Harry also gave him a camera and bottle of developing fluid for moving photos. The trio showed a good deal of thoughtfulness by sending Severus a set of parchment and quills; the Potions Master was quite surprised.

            At last, after all other presents were unwrapped, Sirius handed Severus a large, bulky package and confessed, “I didn’t really know what to get you.”

            Severus flashed him a quirky smile. “Don’t worry. Nobody ever does,” he assured him and opened it.

            Under the wrapping paper was a shiny gold cauldron filled with potion ingredients. Severus examined the bottles and commented, “These are rare. I haven’t seen some of these in Hogsmeade or Diagon in awhile. Where did you get them?”

            “Remus is good friends with his local apothecary,” he explained.

            Severus nodded. “That’s not surprising,” he replied. The remark was straight-forward and not at all snide. “Thank you, Sirius.”

            He handed Sirius a small box. Sirius untied the ribbon and found inside a single ticket for tomorrow’s train from Hogsmeade to platform nine and three quarters and back again.

            “Pets are free,” Severus explained. “Sorry. It was the only way I could think of to smuggle you on the train other than Polyjuice- and given where we’re going, I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

            “Where are we going?” he asked.

            “Diagon Alley.”

            “But won’t everything be closed tomorrow?”

            “I asked Dumbledore to arrange an appointment for us.”

            “An appointment for what?”

            “You’ll see,” Severus replied and refused to say anything further.

 

* * *

 

            While the Leaky Cauldron was bustling with wizards and witches on vacation, Diagon Alley was nearly abandoned. On all fours, Sirius’s view of the shop windows was very limited, which was disappointing. It had been a long time since he had visited Diagon Alley and likely would be so before he came again.

            Severus stopped at one of the stores and knocked at its door. The blinds were pulled down over the windows and although Sirius craned his neck, he could not read the sign. The door clicked open and they entered. The thousands of narrow boxes piled to the ceiling on all sides told him instantly where he was.

            “Good day, gentlemen,” a small voice came from nowhere.

            Severus gave a start and Sirius yipped.

            Mr. Ollivander stood beside them, a knowing expression upon his face. “Severus Snape, dogwood and dragon heartstring, twelve inches. I was apprehensive about the fate of that wand,” said Ollivander.

            Severus frowned.

            Ollivander’s silver eyes peered keenly at the dog beside him. “Sirius Black, ebony and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches. I presume it was broken when you went to Azkaban?”

            Sirius assumed his human form. “Yes,” he answered.

            Ollivander squinted and sized up Sirius. “A difficult case you’ve brought me, Professor Snape,” he said. “It’s the wand that chooses the wizard, but he has already been chosen. Not many get a second chance. Hold out your wand arm.”

            Sirius did so. Ollivander took out his strange tape measure and began taking notes. He turned towards the shelves and selected several boxes.

            Sirius glanced at Severus. “A wand?” he mouthed.

            Severus whispered, “Well, you need a wand.”

            Ollivander returned and handed one to Sirius. “Oak and unicorn hair, ten inches.”

            Sirius knew what to expect and was not surprised when Ollivander snatched it from him after five seconds.

            “Maple and dragon heartstring, nine inches.”

            Sirius waved. Nothing.

            “Willow and phoenix feather. Eight and a half inches.”

            Nothing.

            “Yew and phoenix feather. Another one?” Ollivander mused aloud. “That would be ironic.”

            Sirius had no idea what he meant, but supposed it did not matter since it failed to work anyway. He felt almost like a first-year, waving wand after wand after wand as the stack of rejected grew alarmingly high.

            “If there’s a will, there’s a wand, and I will find it,” Ollivander said. “Cedar and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches. Try this.”

            Sirius did- and a cascade of green and blue sparks showered from its end.

            “ _Very_ interesting,” he remarked. “It’s not often I sell a person a wand brother to someone close to them, although it happened four years ago. Harry Potter, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches.”

            Sirius’s stomach bound itself in a knot. “Who?” he asked hoarsely.

            If his wand was the brother to Peter Pettigrew’s…

            “Dogwood and dragon heartstring, twelve inches,” Ollivander replied simply. “Severus Snape.”

 

* * *

 

            Sirius slept on the train, his head resting in Severus’s lap. Severus gently scratched the scruff of his neck, then, taking care not to rouse the dog, opened his recently purchased parcel.

            The wand was long, slender, and unassuming. He touched the tip and felt a slight sting common to a point of concentrated magic. He removed his own wand and, warily, touched its end to the other. A tingling sensation passed through his hand.

            He and Sirius had brother wands. What did it mean?

 

* * *

 

            “ _Lumos! Nox! Accio! Accio!_ ”

            Christmas ornaments whizzed through the room.

            “Feeling like more of a wizard now that you have a wand?” Severus asked dryly.

            Sirius grinned. “ _Accio Severus!_ ”

            Severus made a note of exclamation as his body suddenly levitated from his armchair and floated into Sirius’s arms.

            “Yes, yes, very cute. Now put me down.”

            Sirius tweaked his nose, causing Severus to twitch, then lowered him, allowing him to step onto the floor.

            “We have brother wands…” he whispered, amazed.

            Severus grimaced. “It’s not a good thing.”

            “Why?”

            “If we get into a fight, we’ll trigger Priori Incantatem and cause a mess.”

            “Why would we fight?” Sirius asked.

            “I still hate you,” Severus said.

            “Yeah, sure,” he replied and kissed him.

            “No, I’m serious,” Severus insisted, with the slightest of smirks. “In fact, you’ve given me just the right ingredients for a _nasty_ poison.”

            Sirius bit his nose.

            “Stop that!” Severus yelled. He threw himself at Sirius and they toppled backwards, conveniently onto the sofa.


	10. The Aphrodilus

            Hermione returned to Hogwarts on January second, the last day of Christmas vacation. Her constant presence dwindled Harry’s patience, but he remembered his manners and only once inquired about checking the restricted section. She cheerfully replied that she was working on it.

            Finally, five days after classes had resumed, Hermione met with Harry and Ron in a deserted corner of the library. She took a large, molding volume from her bag and set it on the table with a thud.

            Ron bent down and sniffed the book. “Oh, yeah, this is definitely from the restricted section.”

            “How did you get it?” Harry asked.

            “Hagrid signed for me,” she answered. “He wants to breed skewts and needs to research love charms. This is the only book the library has that’s any good, but I don’t think it’s going to help us.”

            He bit his lip. “Why not?”

            “Well, first of all, none of the charms are strong enough to work. And any of the potions would have worn off long before now.”

            “But if someone was continuously contaminating-”

            “Harry,” she said, “I don’t think it’s a love potion.”

            There was a pause.

            “Well, why not?” Ron inquired.

            “Maybe the first time it could have been, but Snape _is_ the Potions Master. I think he would be able to tell if his food was contaminated or recognize if he was under the influence of a potion,” she explained.

            “I think you’re giving Snape a bit too much credit,” said Ron.

            Harry shook his head. “But if it’s not a potion or a charm then… what?”

            “There is one thing,” replied Hermione, flipping the book open. “An Aphrodilus.”

            Ron blinked. “A what?”

            “An Aphrodilus,” she repeated. “The book doesn't explain much, but it’s a device that runs on a potion and will make any two people become attracted to each other. The potion is kind of like Polyjuice- you need some hair from each person for it to work and it only lasts six months. Once it’s constructed, the subjects need to make physical contact… and then it’s activated.”

            “Okay,” Ron said. “So someone made this Afro-dial-a-thingy and thought it would be funny if- hey- Snape fell in love with a dog… but the dog happened to be Sirius-”

            Hermione glared at him with a mingling of pure disgust and annoyance. She said flatly, “Ron, that’s really, really gross.”

            “Well…” Harry squirmed. “ _Could_ someone have… Ron, that _is_ really gross.”

            “It’s also impossible,” Hermione scoffed. “Almost all the ingredients of the potion are illegal to grow or possess and the Aphrodilus requires an extreme amount of Dark power-”

            Harry felt like he had swallowed a Bludger.

            “Voldemort.”

            Hermione and Ron both gave a start.

            Harry stared off into space as if in a trance. “Voldemort made an Aphrodilus… he made Sirius and Snape…”

            “Hermione? Does the Aphrodilus just produce attraction?” Ron asked. “Or does it have some side effects?”

“It depends on the person,” she answered hesitantly. “If an Aphrodilus is used on mortal enemies… they usually end up killing each other.”

            “Then it makes sense,” Harry said. “Snape used to be a spy for Dumbledore, so Voldemort would want to kill him, but can’t because he’s at Hogwarts. So he picked someone he hated- and the only person he really hates besides me is Sirius-”

            “Blimey, Harry. What if You-Know-Who had used the Aphrodilus on _you_ instead of Sirius?” Ron whispered.

            Harry’s eyes went very wide.

            “Oh, grow up!” Hermione snapped. “Honestly, Ron, you’re just disgusting today. The Dark Lord didn’t make an Aphrodilus!”

            “How do _you_ know?” he demanded.

            “How could he get close enough to either of them to cut their hair? Besides, think about how they’ve been acting!”

            Ron countered, “Snape’s been the same-”

            “I _know_ Snape’s been the same, but according to Harry, Sirius is happy! Doesn’t sound like they’re about to kill each other in a fit of passion!” she exclaimed. “If they were, they would have done it already! Plus _Dumbledore_ knows they’re in love. Do you really think-”

            “ _They are not!_ ”

            Hermione and Ron both jumped. Their eyes darted to Harry, who had stood up and was trembling furiously.

            “They are _not_ ,” he repeated.

            “Harry,” said Hermione softly, “what if-”

            But Harry had a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. “Don’t even say it. It’s wrong- and you know it. Are you really _that stupid_? Come on, Hermione- you’re _supposed_ to be the smart one!”

            He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. Hermione downcast her head and averted her eyes. Something sparkled under her lashes. “Alright, Harry,” she whispered and began to swiftly walk away.

            Ron gave him a look somewhere between reproach and sympathy then dashed after her calling, “Hermione! You know he didn’t mean it-”

            Harry collapsed into his chair. He was miserable and furious with the entire world. Suddenly, he remembered when he had once felt this way before.

            It was upon discovering how Sirius Black had betrayed his parents.

 

* * *

 

            Harry may have been wrong about Sirius then, but he was certain he was correct about Snape and his godfather now. Still, he felt horrible for snapping at Hermione. When evening came, he longed to go directly to bed and put an end to the entire miserable day, but could not; Sirius expected him in the common room at midnight. Harry spent five hours slumped in an armchair trying vainly not to brood over his own black thoughts.

            Sirius arrived fifteen minutes late. “Sorry, Harry,” he apologized. “I had trouble getting out of the house.”

            Harry wondered if it had anything to do with the brand-new scratch on Sirius’s right cheek. Sudden indignation at Hermione flared again. How could she _not_ think this was the work of an Aphrodilus?

            “It’s okay,” he answered, trying to sound cheerful.

            Sirius was not fooled. “What happened?”

            Harry sighed. “Nothing. Really nothing. It’s just…” His own voice sounded hollow. “I sort of had a bad fight with Hermione and now Ron’s mad. Today was just a mess.”

            “Oh. I’m sorry, Harry.”

            He shrugged. “Don’t be. It was my fault. I’m going to apologize when I see her tomorrow.”

            Sirius beamed him an approving smiled. “When’s your next Quidditch match?”

            “Next week,” he answered, then sat up. “Are you going to come?” he asked expectantly.

            “I hope I can. I’m not sure. Dumbledore mentioned he might have something for me to do.”

            Harry nodded.

            Sirius asked him the usual questions and he replied in as much detail as he could. He was still notably upset but, thankfully, Sirius believed it was only the matter of Ron and Hermione.

            “Hey,” Sirius asked, “would you like to come over for dinner on the tenth?”

            Harry was thrown off-balance.

            “Dinner?” he repeated. “At the cabin?”

            “Yes.”

            “Wa… won’t Snape mind?” he asked hesitantly.

            Sirius winked. “Don’t worry. He’ll behave so long as I’m there.”

            Panic suddenly spiked in his mind. Dinner with Snape, even if Sirius was present, was a frightening prospect. Besides, how was he supposed to eat when seeing them together made him queasy? Yet to refuse would be to insult his godfather.

            “Okay,” Harry accepted. “Sounds… good.”

            “Dinner will be a seven. Dumbledore knows where you’ll be and Severus will take you back to the tower,” he told him. Then his voice became soft. “Harry, you don’t have to like Severus… I don’t even really like him…”

            Harry forced a laugh.

            Sirius continued, “…I just really care about both of you and… I know that most of the hostility between you two is instigated by him. Believe _me_ ,” he emphasized with a frank look. “I went to school with him. I _know_. I just… I’d like to see you two get along a little better and that’s not going to happen unless Severus sees how you are outside the classroom… Not that you’re any different, but you know. Severus… has problems.”

“That’s asking for a lot,” Harry said.

            “Yeah, well, I figured it would take a few years, so best start now.”

            Harry forced a smile. Inside, he felt very sick.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius slowly crept inside the bedroom. Severus appeared already asleep beneath the sheets. As he slipped into bed, his eye turned towards his bedmate and caught a glimpse of a rare sight.

            Severus, believing Sirius’s gaze elsewhere occupied, opened his eyes for a moment and smiled. Sirius’s heart stilled in wonderment. Severus never smiled except to himself. Sirius had caught him at it twice before, and wished he would do it more often. It made him feel very warm inside.

            He sighed happily and, bestowing a kiss upon the Potion Master’s forehead before snuggling beside him, decided to wait until morning to spoil Severus’s mood.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius lived by one adage: never, ever anger Severus Snape until after a meal is served.

            “You did _WHAT?!_ ” Severus screeched. He stood up so fast his chair not only fell, but slid across the floor and crashed into the stove.

            “Severus,” Sirius reminded, “he _is_ my godson.”

            Severus placed one hand against his forehead. The other he tapped angrily against the table. “You really don’t think, _do_ you?”

            “Believe me, I put a _lot_ of thought into this.”

            “Then _you_ have some explaining to do,” he snapped furiously.

            Sirius stood up and stated calmly, “I think you should learn to be civil to Harry.”

            “I am civil.”

            “How about nice?”

            Severus glared.

            “Oh, come on!” he exclaimed. “I make compromises for you.”

            “Like what?”

            “I put up with you, for one thing, and that’s not exactly easy. You’ve got a pretty crappy personality.”

            “There is nothing wrong with my personality,” Severus stated coolly.

            “Yeah- except that nobody else _likes_ you!”

            “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t like them either?” Severus retorted.

            “What is your problem with Harry anyway?” Sirius demanded.

            “Do I really have to explain?” he asked. “He’s a Potter and it shows. Like father, like son-”

            “James was my best friend!”

            “Well, I never said I liked you either!” Severus snapped. He was so livid he was quivering. “I will not stand to have him in my house, at my table-”

            Severus’ voice left him in a sudden gasp. He trembled; his right hand clasped around his left arm like a vise.

            “Severus-”

            “The Mark-” he whispered with panic.

            Sirius nodded and took Severus by the arm, swiftly leading him from the kitchen. “We’d better go to Dumbledore, right now.”

 

* * *

 

            Ginny Weasley, except for an occasional shiver, stood perfectly still as Professor Snape stalked through the classroom. He stopped before her simmering caldron, stuck a ladle inside, and stirred. Nothing happened.

            Snape narrowed his eyes. “I was under the impression, Miss Weasley, that you were not a Muggle.”

            Her face went red as someone behind her snickered. Snape immediately whirled around and with a silencing glare, ordered dangerously, “You are not to make a _sound_ when I am speaking! Five points-”

            Ginny heard scuffling across the floor. Snape glanced up and, dismayed, stated flatly, “You will excuse me.”

            A large black dog holding an envelope in its mouth had entered the room. Snape took the envelope from it and with his hand shooed it away. The dog did not leave, but instead yipped expectantly. Snape glared at it, opened the envelope, quickly read whatever it was inside, then crumpled it into a ball.

            “You should have just sent an owl,” he told the dog crossly, then turned back to his class.

            _What was that about?_ Ginny wondered.

 

* * *

 

            Harry apologized to Hermione at the first opportunity, and although she quickly forgave him, it did little to ease the tension building his stomach. The next evening, as he crossed the Hogwarts green, all of his apprehensions fluttered across his mind. How would Snape behave? Would he really act differently because of Sirius? And who was cooking? For some reason, Harry had a difficult time picturing Sirius in front of a stove.

            _How am I ever going to get through tonight?_ he wondered. He had agreed out of respect for his godfather, but the truth was that he did not want to help Sirius improve his relationship with Snape. He felt that it was very wrong they were in a relationship at all.

            _The only thing it could be is an Aphrodilus… and that means they’ll kill each other…_

            Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the cabin’s door. A few moments later, it opened. Glaring down at him, at first very surprised and then very angry, was Snape.

            Coldly, the Potions Master said, “He told me he told you not to come. I should have known he was lying.”

            “What?” Harry asked, startled into forgetting himself.

            “Sirius isn’t here,” Snape said. “He left on a mission yesterday.”

            “Oh,” he replied. He did not like the sound of that. “Well, I can just go back to the castle…”

            Snape glanced back at something inside the house. His frown became a half-sneer, his left hand twitched, and for a moment he seemed to be debating something with himself.

            “No,” he said very reluctant and resentfully. “They’ve stopped serving dinner at the castle and Sirius will never forgive me if you starve.” He ordered brusquely, “Come in.”

            Rather nervously, Harry stepped over the threshold and entered. Snape closed the door behind him.

            “Wait here.”

            Snape stormed past him and a few minutes later he heard angry clangs from what he assumed was the kitchen. Harry took a moment to glance about the living room. With pale purple walls and carpeting, it did not look much like the interior of a cabin. A sofa, two armchairs, and three end tables scattered about the room provided furnishings. The mantle of the fireplace was bare; photos, knickknacks, or other decorations were completely absent except for a clock and several red, gold, green, and silver bulbs that looked like Christmas ornaments. There were no jars of slime or floating eyeballs like in Snape’s office, but even if Snape did deal with such substances every day, why would he keep them in the living room?

            Snape soon returned and ordered, “Come!”

            Harry obeyed and followed him into the kitchen.

            The kitchen was immaculate. Tiled in gleaming white squares with matching cabinets and a strangely Muggle-like stove, it was neater and cleaner than Aunt Petunia’s, however the floating Lumos-bulbs, gold cauldron on the burner, self-cleaning sink, and very odd cabinet emitting nasty vibes proclaimed it every bit as magical as the Weasleys’. For a moment, Harry had the very disturbing image of Snape wearing Mrs. Weasley’s ruffled pink apron, which he immediately shook from his mind.

            The table, covered in a violet cloth, was set for two, a plate at each end. Food was already served and steaming on the dishes. As Harry sat, he was amazed at how normal it looked. In fact, it was turkey.

            _Well, what did you expect him to serve?_ he asked himself. _A first-year?_ Actually, that would not have surprised him…

            Harry’s appetite was thoroughly lost, but he managed to force down small bites of his food. As soon as he returned to the castle, he was going to tell Hermione _exactly_ what he ate so she could test him for poison. He did not look at Snape. He did not think that Snape’s table manners were disgusting- he personally suspected that the Potions Master cut and chewed his food with such precision it was uncanny- but he still did not want to see it.

            The tension in the room made the silence drawn-out and awkward, apparently enough to bother even Snape. After five minutes, he asked Harry, “What are you learning in the Dark Arts?”

            Harry wondered if he had forgotten to say “Defense Against” purposely.

            “Cursed objects,” he answered quickly, then feeling a sudden need to elaborate, continued, “Like the Hand of Glory and Staff of Saruman and…”

            _Should I say it?_ It was risky, but he was curious to see Snape’s reaction.

            “…and Aphrodiluses.”

            Snape put down his fork. “Aphrodiluses?” he asked softly. “Your professor told you about Aphrodiluses?”

            Harry hesitated. “Well…”

            Snape did not give him time to finish. “It’s about time Hogwarts had someone who taught that course properly.”

            Snape sipped a liquid- it looked like water, but who _really_ knew?- and did not continue.

            _So, he knows what an Aphrodilus is…_ “Just how powerful is an Aphrodilus?” Harry asked carefully.

            A sinister smirk spread across Snape’s face as an evil thought sprung into his head. “It would make even you and Voldemort find each other hopelessly irresistible.”

            That thought was nasty in more ways than Harry cared to count.

            “Could you make one?”

            Snape’s glass clanked down on the table. From the look on the professor’s face, Harry knew he had _really_ put his foot in it this time.

            “What sort of a question is _that_ , Potter?”

            “I mean,” he blurted, “can an ordinary wizard make one?”

            For a brief moment, Snape’s twisted smile returned. “Why don’t we call Mr. Weasley into my office on Monday and run a little test to find out?” he suggested.

            Harry really did not like Snape’s sense of humor.

            The silence took over for several moments, then Snape suddenly said in a dangerous tone, “I know what you’re thinking, Harry.”

            Harry stopped eating and looked up at him. Snape’s eyes were fixed upon him with a deadly glare.

            “The Dark Lord is the only wizard alive powerful enough to construct an Aphrodilus,” he continued, “but such a device produces only desire and obsession. Not love.”

            It was more than Harry could bear. “But- you and Sirius-”

            “Do you realize what a rude little boy you are?” Snape snapped.

            Harry said nothing. His cheeks burned, but Snape was right. It was an inappropriate question. He finished his meal only because it was the dignified thing to do.


	11. Letters from Sirius

            “Why isn’t Snape at breakfast?” Hermione asked, glancing at the teachers’ dining table.

            “Why should he be?” Ron answered. “He’s got his own cabin.”

            “Yes, but Sirius left six days ago. Don’t you think he’d go back to his room inside the castle?”

            He shrugged. “Why would he do that?”

            “Because he’s lonely?”

            “Lonely? Snape’s not exactly a people person, Hermione.”

            “Why does it matter?” Harry asked irritably.

            Hermione and Ron said nothing, but gave each other a significant glance. Harry did not understand how they could accept the situation with Sirius and Snape so casually. How could they fail to notice that something was radically wrong? Harry had mentioned very little to them of his dinner with Snape five days ago, and said nothing of the Aphrodilus, which he sensed had become a touchy subject for Hermione. He could no longer confide his suspicions to them and dearly wished it were otherwise. Snape had all but directly stated that he loved Sirius. What was he supposed to make of that? The idea was eating him up inside.

            Harry’s dismal thoughts were suddenly disturbed by a flurry of feathers. The owls had arrived and one of an unusual breed, which he did not recognize, swooped low and dropped two letters into his lap. He identified the handwriting on the first envelope, immediately tore it open, and then read:

 

_Dear Harry,_

_I’m very, very sorry I wasn’t there for dinner on the tenth. A problem arose the morning before and I had to leave immediately. I did not realize until much too late I had forgotten to tell you not to come. Did you end up eating with Severus? Did he behave? Please let me know- and please don’t sugarcoat it for my sake._

_As usual, I can’t tell you where I am or what I’m doing. I don’t know when I’ll return. Please write back, using this owl. It knows where to find me._

_Sorry to miss your Quidditch match._

_Sirius_

_P.S. Please give the-_

            “- second letter to _Severus!?_ ” Harry groaned miserably. He glanced at the other envelope and, sure enough, Snape’s name was written on it in Sirius’s script. “Why couldn’t he have just sent another owl?”

            “Well, think about it, Harry,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly. “It would be much more risky to send two and Sirius probably has trouble finding owls.”

            “Yeah,” Ron agreed. “At least he had the sense to figure out that it would be a bad idea to give a letter for you to Snape.”

            Harry looked down at the second envelope and frowned.

            “How I am supposed to give this to Snape?”

            “Just hand it to him during Potions,” Hermione said.

            “Yes, but what if somebody sees me with it?” Harry asked. “It’s addressed to ‘Severus.’ If I was writing a letter to Snape, I certainly wouldn’t call him ‘Severus.’”

            “I’m surprised his mother thought it was a good idea to call him ‘Severus’,” Ron remarked. “That’s assuming he has a mother.”

            Hermione ignored Ron’s comment. “Do it after class. It’s not that big a deal, Harry.”

            He sighed. Didn’t they understand what any of this meant?

 

* * *

 

            Snape glared suspiciously into the murky depths of Harry’s cauldron.

            “A surprising- and rather unexpected- display of aptitude, Mr. Potter. Let’s see how well you do tomorrow when you aren’t standing next to Miss Granger.”

            Indignation rose to Harry’s cheeks. “Hermione didn’t help me, Professor,” he replied.

            Snape looked at him sharply. “Then next class you can prove it. Surely, that’s not too much of a hardship for the hero of Hogwarts.”

            Harry said nothing. Sirius’s letter was burning a hole in his bag. He wondered what might happen if he simply dropped it into his cauldron and watched it disintegrate, but he abandoned the idea the instant he thought of how disappointed his godfather would be.

            Snape returned to his desk as the bell rang. Students eagerly fled from the dungeon room, however Hermione and Ron lingered behind to wait for Harry. Apprehensively, he approached Snape’s desk with the letter in hand.

            Snape glanced at him with a dismissive scowl. “Yes, Mr. Potter?”

            Harry placed the envelope on his desk. “This is from Sirius.”

            The change in Snape’s face very abrupt. He appeared taken aback. “Oh,” he said. “Thank you.” The words sounded clumsy on his tongue. “Wait here,” he ordered, then unexpectedly dashed from the room.

            “Where is he going?” Ron pondered aloud.

            Hermione edged towards the door. “His office, I think.”

            Snape returned fifteen minutes later, Sirius’s letter unfolded in his hand. “Potter, are you sending an owl to Sirius?” he asked.

            “Yes,” Harry answered nervously.

            “Could… could you…” Snape was obviously uncomfortable. “Could you wait until tomorrow? So I could give you a letter to give to Sirius?”

            He did not know what to say. It was the first time Snape had ever spoken to him nicely and he sounded timid.

            “Of course, Professor,” he said.

            “Thank you.”

            For a moment, he thought Snape was smiling, but it was so brief, and so out of character, that he was not sure.

 

* * *

 

            Harry stared at his plate as if it did not exist. Hermione’s hand flashed before his face.

            “Hello?” she called in sing-song voice. “Harry?”

            Harry shook his head. “I don’t believe it,” he said dully. “They really are in love. And it’s…”

            Disgusting? Sirius was happy and Snape had been genuinely nice without drinking a personality-change potion. The first thought was comforting; the second was nothing short of a miracle.

            “…very odd,” he finished.

            He suddenly felt hungry.

 

* * *

 

            The next day, Snape did not move Harry’s seat as threatened. Nor did he make any sarcastic or snide remarks. Except for the very end of class, during which he clandestinely placed an envelope labeled “Sirius” on his desk and nodded slightly, he ignored Harry entirely.

            It was the same the next day and the next. Harry found it very strange but soon realized it was the closest to a sign of approval that he would ever get from Snape.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius received his letters on January nineteenth. He read Harry’s first, smiling at his godson’s casual and chatty tone as well as his sense of irony. When he was certain he had read the note thoroughly, he opened Severus’s.

            Severus’s letter was short and written in his usual biting tone.

 

_Dear Sirius,_

_That letter was the mushiest thing I’ve ever read._

_I miss you._

                                                                                    _Severus_


	12. Shadows on the Horizon

            Sirius returned to Hogwarts January twenty-fifth. He met immediately with Dumbledore.

            “September twenty-seventh to October first, October sixteenth to October nineteenth, the week of Halloween, November twenty-fifth, and now January ninth,” Sirius recited. “These are all the dates Severus has felt the Mark burn this school year, but according to your informants, Voldemort did not conduct a mass summoning on any of these days. In fact, the last summoning was his confrontation with Harry. Unless the Dark Lord is trying to call Severus individually, I have no explanation.”

            Dumbledore’s brow furrowed as he gazed off into empty space and murmured, half to himself and half to Sirius, “I wonder… Voldemort knows Severus was my spy… but just what of that does he know?”

            “What do you mean?” Sirius inquired.

            “I wonder if he knows the nature of the information Severus revealed. There is a certain something that would give him a special motive for revenge.”

            “You aren’t going to tell me what that certain something is, are you?” he stated flatly.

            “No, afraid not,” Dumbledore agreed.

            “Headmaster,” Sirius said, “do you think Voldemort would actively try…?”

            “I do,” he affirmed earnestly.

            Silence hung over the air for several moments.

            “Don’t mention any of this to Severus,” he said.

            Sirius nodded. “I understand.”

 

* * *

 

            Sirius tapped a knob near the bottom of the door. It swung open. He entered the cabin, kicked it shut behind him, and transformed from his canine form.

            “Severus?” he called.

            There was no answer. He stepped a few paces further into the room and called out again.

            “Severus?”

            Suddenly a black blur zoomed from nowhere and crashed into him, nearly knocking him onto the sofa. Severus’ mouth clamped firmly over his and his nails scratched desperately into his back.

            “Mumph!” Sirius exclaimed, gently pushing Severus to arm’s length. “Slow down! I just got in the door!”

            “Do I have to wait?” he demanded petulantly and proceeded to cover Sirius’s face in kisses.

            “Yes!” Sirius shouted back, trying vainly to hold him at bay. “Don’t I get a chance to talk?”

            “Oh, I hate the sound of your voice anyway,” he replied.

            It was as if all Severus’s emotions bottled over the past weeks were suddenly exploding. He clawed at Sirius with such passion that it forced them towards the floor.

            “But here?” Sirius asked. “In the living room?”

            “Why not? We’ve done it before.”

            He spun Severus around and pinned him against the wall, then snatched him in his arms. He began to walk towards stairs.

            “Where are we going?” Severus demanded, kicking his legs in a feeble attempt to escape. “Put me down!”

            “The bedroom. Where else?”

            “Oh, I hate you,” Severus sang all the way up the stairs. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…”

            “Yeah, I bet you do,” Sirius muttered and unceremoniously dumped him onto the bed.

            That decided their activities for the evening.

 

* * *

 

            Frustration fueled Severus. Determined to make up for lost nights, he was as savage with Sirius as their first time together in October. Sirius waited until Severus had exhausted himself, then, ignoring the bites and scratches all over his body, slept.

            Severus was much more complacent when he awoke the next morning.

            “I don’t feel like getting up,” he muttered, “You make breakfast. Try not to blow too much stuff up.”

            Sirius thought a moment, then asked, “Don’t you have a class?”

            “Oh, damn it,” Severus groaned. “Bloody useless Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Why do they need my supervision if they’re going to poison themselves anyway? I wish they would just do it already.”

            “Not exactly a morning-person, are you?”

            “I’m not an any-time of day person.”

            Sirius moved his face close to Severus’s for a kiss.

            “If you even think of biting my nose, I’ll smack you,” Severus warned.

            “What if I just kissed it?”

            “I don’t trust you.”

            Sirius yawned. “What got into you last night? You were an animal.”

            “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I didn’t it plan it that way, but you were away for so long that when I heard your voice I just went crazy.”

            “Yeah, well next time cut your nails first.”

            Severus rearranged himself among the pillows. “How did it go?”

            “What go?”

            “Your journey. Did you figure anything out?”

            Sirius paused. Dumbledore did not want him to tell Severus anything, but he had to say at least a little.

            “No,” he answered. “No one else felt the Mark burn on the dates that you did. Severus, I’m not at liberty to tell you much, but I am worried.”


	13. The Polyjuice Plot

            February came and as Valentine’s Day drew near Sirius, in spite of himself, grew restless.

            “I wish we could do something,” he confided wistfully over breakfast. “It gets boring in the cabin all day.”

            “It’s better than Azkaban,” Severus remarked, scraping scrambled eggs off the pan which hovered in midair.

            Sirius narrowed his eyes and growled with a note of exasperated disgust. “I know it’s better than Azkaban!” he snapped. “What sort of a comment is that?”

            Severus glared at him over his shoulder. “I’m just putting things in perspective!” he retorted. “Calm down, Sirius! You’re starting to sound like me.”

            He dropped his head onto the table. Mimicking Severus was definitely _not_ a good sign.

            “Eat your eggs,” Severus ordered, setting a plate by his ear. “And pick your head up. You didn’t wash your hair last night.”

            “It’s still a lot less greasy than yours,” he mumbled, as Severus returned to the stove.

            “Oh, shut up.”

            Sirius raised his head. “Why _is_ it so greasy?”

            Severus slammed the still-levitating pan down on the counter and whirled around. “ _Why_ do you care?”

            “Well, it’s kind of a turn-off.”

            Severus gave him a very deadpan look. “I have _never_ turned you off.”

            “Oh, yes, you have,” he said. “Before October-”

            “Before October doesn’t count.”

            Sirius sighed. He supposed he was right. _What happened in October?_ he wondered. _Who kissed whom?_ The question still nagged him. He deeply cared for Severus, yet he had no idea why or what their relationship was based upon. _The fact that we don’t know doesn’t seem to affect anything we do, but shouldn’t it? Shouldn’t the answer to something like that be important?_

            As Severus carried his own plate to the table, regarding his eggs with mild disgust, Sirius inquired, “When is Pomfrey going to take you off that diet?”

            “Probably after I start following it.”

            “ _Severus_ ,” he reprimanded.

            “So I don’t eat properly, alright? I really don’t care,” Severus snapped, taking a seat. “Enough of me. Why do you have cabin fever so suddenly?”

            Sirius smiled. “Was that meant to be a pun?”

            “No,” he answered crossly.

            “Oh.” He never knew quite what would set Severus off. “I guess… it’s six days until Valentine’s and I wish we could do something special.”

            Severus groaned. “You are so mushy.”

            “You like mushy.”

            “No, I don’t.”

            “Then why was my letter under your pillow?”

            “Shut up.”

            “You already said that today,” Sirius pointed out. “You need a new comeback.”

            Severus rolled his eyes, then continued, “I assume by doing ‘something special’ you mean go some place?”

            “Yeah,” he said. “But it’s not really possible. Dumbledore’s restricted you to Hogwarts and Hogsmeade… I wouldn’t mind Hogsmeade, but I’d have to be a dog.”

            “True,” Severus agreed. He lifted up a forkful of egg, grimaced at it, then swallowed it. “You know, there’s always Polyjuice.”

            Sirius gave him a funny look. “Polyjuice?”

            He nodded. “Polyjuice.”

            “Are you serious?” he asked dubiously.

            Severus hesitated, then answered dryly, “Oh, why not?”

            “I don’t think that’s legal.”

            “I don’t think you’re legal.”

            Sirius inquired, “But doesn’t Polyjuice take awhile to brew?”

            “Well, actually…” Severus’s voice trailed off and he became very quiet. “I always have some on hand.”

            “What for?” he asked suspiciously.

            “Emergencies.”

            “Such as?”

            “I don’t know!”

            “How much?”

            “Uh…” Severus again became timid. “Enough for one person for forty-eight hours.”

            Sirius dropped his fork. “Are you crazy?” he demanded. “What are you doing with caldrons full of Polyjuice lying around? What if somebody found it?”

            “I have precautions in place,” Severus answered in a tone which suggested something foul.

            Sirius tossed the idea about for several moments, then asked, “Who will it turn me into?”

            “Anyone. That ingredient hasn’t been added yet.”

            “Okay,” he replied. “So… who would logically be seen in Hogsmeade with you?”

            Severus bit his lip. “Um… no one. I don’t really go to Hogsmeade. Another teacher I suppose, which means we ought to wait for a student weekend.”

            “When’s the next one?”

            “Four days after Valentine’s.”

            “Ten days from now…” Sirius mused. “Ten days to figure out who I want to be. Though I can’t imagine anyone would allow us to be romantic.”

            “Oh, God, Sirius!” Severus exclaimed, utterly disgusted. “In _public?_ ”

            This time it was Sirius’s turn to say, “Oh, shut up.”

 

* * *

 

            The more Sirius pondered the Polyjuice, the more aware he became of the plot’s vital flaw: there really was no one would spend an entire day with Severus. The Potions Master would have to undergo the transformation as well.

            Finding a pair was an easier, yet decidedly more risky, task. The effects of Polyjuice, unless taken at regular intervals, only lasted an hour. Sirius had to obtain enough hair to supply several doses of the juice and while hair-growth potions were the obvious solution, how would he convince someone to drink them? In fact, how could he keep his and Severus’s temporary doppelgangers out of sight?

            Unquestionably, whomever Sirius chose for himself and Severus to become would have to be in on the plot. It was the sort of idea Prongs and Moony would have loved, but neither James nor Remus was here. Who did he know at Hogwarts who shared their mischievous, and sometimes miscreant, sense of adventure?

            Sirius suddenly had a brilliant idea.

 

* * *

 

            The morning of the eighteenth found Severus in the kitchen stirring a small vat of Polyjuice.

            “Will we really need all that?” asked Sirius apprehensively.

            Severus shook his head and held up a flask. “No. This will contain enough to last you five hours. I just need the cauldron to mix it. There will be excess, so we can do this again sometime. But,” he added with slight irritation, “you still haven’t told me who you’ve chosen to become.”

            Sirius eyed him nervously. If his plan were to fail at any time, it would be now. “Actually, I couldn’t think of anyone. I picked two- for both of us.”

            Severus’s eyes narrowed. His mouth twitched for several seconds until he coldly demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

            “I…thought you’d say no?” he answered timidly.

            “And you’re right.” Severus sighed with angry frustration, then snapped acridly, “Fine! Far be it from me to burst your little bubble!”

            He stormed from the room.

 

* * *

 

            Severus’s thoughts were foul as he negated the curses guarding his personal supply of Polyjuice. He picked up another cauldron and began to drag it downstairs into the kitchen.

            How could Sirius spring something like this on him? Did he have any concept of what a Polyjuice transformation was like?

            _It was your idea to use Polyjuice_ , chided a little voice in his head that he usually ignored. _Sirius knows what he’s doing. He has more reason than you to be cautious._

 _Fine. Whatever!_ he snapped back at his conscience, then took a breath to calm himself before entering the kitchen.

            He found Sirius adjusting the full-length mirror he had conjured from the bedroom. The cauldron of Polyjuice was bubbling again; it had changed from mud brown to an orange-red.

            “I already added the final ingredient of mine,” Sirius explained.

            Severus nodded and set the second cauldron next to it. From a small pouch, Sirius removed several strands of long black hair. He placed them in the potion. It hissed and frothed, changing to a bright green. Severus went to the cabinets and removed the goblets Dumbledore had given them for Christmas. He handed one to Sirius and they both dipped them into their respective vats.

            Severus eyed the verdant liquid in his goblet suspiciously. “Just who is this going to turn me into?”

            Sirius grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

            Severus gave him a dubious glare.

            “Come on, don’t you trust me?”

            “Not really,” he muttered, and then together they drank the juice.

            Severus knew what would happen next, but he still was not completely prepared when his insides began to writhe and invert themselves. Fire burned throughout his body as his skin melted and reformed. He was becoming shorter, his nose was shrinking, and suddenly a jagged pain slashed across his forehead and the world became a blur.

            “Sirius!” he croaked in a voice he barely recognized. “Something’s wrong! I can’t see!”

            “You’re fine,” a voice he knew but could not place assured him. “You just need these.”

            Sirius shoved something- glasses?- into his hands. Severus turned in the direction of the mirror and lifted them to his face.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius would never forget Severus’s expression when he saw who he had become and screamed.

 

* * *

 

            “You’re not funny,” Severus whispered sharply as they walked past the Three Broomsticks. It was strange to see his glare coming from those green eyes. “You’re really, really _not_ funny.”

            “Oh, cheer up!” Sirius said with Ron Weasley’s mischievous tone and grin. “That grimace doesn’t become Harry.”

            Severus forced a smile across his borrowed face and adjusted his glasses. “I still can’t believe you did this.”

            “But Ron and Harry were a perfect choice!” Sirius declared. “With the invisibility cloak, they can both keep out of sight, so no one will suspect a thing- assuming you keep in character.”

            Severus scowled.

            “Come on, this could be more fun than we thought,” Sirius prodded. “We can pretend to be schoolboys again.”

            “I didn’t like being a schoolboy,” Severus said. “I believe _you_ had a lot to do with _that_.”

            Sirius winced at a small stab of guilt, then sighed. “Listen, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Are you going to waste it over petty details like this?”

            Severus bit his lip. “Alright. I suppose you have a point.”

            Sirius smiled. “Think happy,” he said, then, unable to resist, added, “Think Harry.”

            Severus swung his bag at his head.

 

* * *

 

            Hermione wound her way through the crowds of Hogsmeade cautiously, well aware of the unseen person beside her.

            “Which one do you suppose is Harry?” Ron whispered from beneath the invisibility cloak.

            “Judging from the sneer, I’d say it’s Snape.”

            “Ha!” Ron laughed.

            “Listen,” Hermione hissed. “We’re going to follow them for only ten more minutes and then we are going to leave them alone. Alright?”

            Ron sighed. “Alright. But Hermione, what if…?”

            “What if what?” she asked.

            “What if Snape and Sirius decide to…you know… while they’re still…”

            Hermione glared at him sternly. “Oh, grow up!”

 

* * *

 

            The first shop Sirius and Severus entered was Zonko’s. Within a few minutes, it became clear that Severus was not enjoying himself, so they left and went to Honeydukes. They ate a ridiculous amount of candy, then ventured to the Three Broomsticks to see if butterbeer could cure a sugar buzz. It did not, but it did make Severus turn slightly green and Sirius burp.

            Back at Hogwarts, they stealthy dodged McGonagall’s efforts to herd everyone into the Gryffindor common room, detouring down a little used corridor to detransform in Severus’s office. They were almost to the dungeon when Severus suddenly stopped short.

            “What’s wrong?” Sirius asked.

            “Dumbledore,” he said. “Oh no, Dumbledore! He said to let him know where I am at all times and now it’s been almost five hours-”

            “Don’t worry,” Sirius assured him. “I took care-”

            A voice behind them suddenly spoke with vicious satisfaction. “Well, well, well. Potter and Weasley. What might you two be doing here on a Saturday?”

            They turned. Severus’s eyes became wide and his jaw dropped. He pointed and demanded, “Who is that? Who is _that_?”

            “A precaution,” Sirius whispered.

            Towering before them in all-too-familiar billowy black robes was a perfect mirror image of Severus Snape.

            Severus’s double sneered. “You two are in serious need of an explaina-”

            The doppelganger suddenly stopped, put his face in his hands, and began laughing hysterically. The cackle was horrible.

            “Ugh,” Severus grimaced. “Do I really sound like that?”

            “Yeah,” Sirius answered. “And you do it all the time in bed.”

            He dashed down the hall. Severus ran after him screaming, “I do _NOT_!”

 

* * *

 

            Ron and Hermione entered the abandoned classroom near Professor Sinistra’s observatory. A dark figure stood in shadow. From the hooked nose of its silhouette, they recognized it immediately.

            “Professor Snape?” Hermione asked nervously.

            Snape stepped forward into the half-light of the window. “No, Hermione, it’s me. How much longer do I have?”

            Hermione glanced at her watch. “Less than a minute. In fact-”

            Everything about Snape began changing rapidly. His hair shortened and became messy, his nose shrunk, his fingers became less spindly- until in robes that were much too long and bit too tight stood Harry Potter.

            Harry flexed his fingers and rubbed his face, then fished through Snape’s robes for his glasses. “Thank goodness!” he exclaimed, sounding much relieved. “I’m so glad to be me again!”

            Ron grinned. “Didn’t like being Snape?”

            “No, it was dreadful. But I did get to scare some first-years. And I gave out some detentions.”

            “To who?”

            “Random Slytherins,” he said. “Too bad Draco was at Hogsmeade.”

            “But won’t you get in trouble when Snape finds out?” Hermione inquired apprehensively.

            “I don’t think so,” said Harry. “I differed them to McGonagall- plus it will be difficult for Snape to cancel the detentions without admitting he wasn’t the one who gave them.”

            “That’s it!” Ron declared. “Next time, _I_ get to be Snape!”


	14. Lupin's Warning

            March came in like a lamb, which made Severus suspicious. Fate hated to disappoint and a few days after the first, he heard sounds indicative of a fistfight outside his classroom.

            In the hall, Crabbe and Goyle, looking big, dumb, and stupid as usual, were menacing Hermione Granger, who was fending them off with her wand. Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy rolled around on the floor pummeling each other. Draco had a bloody nose and Ron, with a black eye, was screaming, “If you ever try to hurt her-!” Harry Potter was on the ground knocked out cold, apparently by a spell, and Neville Longbottom was off the side looking confused, uncomfortable, and very embarrassed.

            Severus took one look at the motley mix and commanded, “STOP!”

            As if by magic, everyone went still.

            “What is happening here?”

            Everyone, except Potter, began babbling at once.

            “SILENCE!”

            Everyone was dutifully mortified.

            Severus pointed towards the prone figure on the floor. “Who knocked out Potter?”

            Granger slowly raised her hand and answered timidly, “I did, sir.” 

            “Miss Granger?” he asked in disbelief, then commanded sternly, “Explain yourself.”

            “Well, Harry was about to uh… kiss Neville I think, so I thought it would be a good idea-”

            “What?” Severus exclaimed, then recomposed himself. “Miss Granger, whatever are you-”

            “He was hit by a love potion,” she said and for the first time, Severus noticed the shards of glass scattered across the floor.

            “Who threw it?” he asked coldly.

            “Draco,” she answered.

            “He was trying to hit HER!” Weasley suddenly bellowed, pointing.

            Severus scowled. “Mr. Weasley, when I want you to speak I will tell you. Now hold your tongue! I think I see what has happened. You allege that Mr. Malfoy tried to hit you with a love potion but struck Potter instead and as a result, he… well whatever with Longbottom. And that started this, yes?”

            Hermione nodded meekly. “Yes.”

            “Draco!” he snapped, his eyes darting to the Slytherin. “What do you have to say to this?”

            An apprehensive Draco hesitated awkwardly before carefully stating, “I admit, Professor, that the potion was a prank, but I didn’t know it was a love potion. I thought-”

            “Mr. Malfoy, you have aced my course every semester,” Severus remarked dryly. “I personally know that you are not that stupid.”

            Draco flinched.

            “What type of love potion was it?”

            Draco bit his lip and looked at him with something between defiance and fear.

            “What type!” Severus snapped. “May I remind you that love potions are not allowed at Hogwarts. This is a serious offence and as head of your House, it is well within my authority to suspend you.”

            Sullenly, Draco removed a scrap of parchment from his pocket and handed it to him. It was a label.

            Severus glanced at it and muttered, “A cheap one.” He pointed at Draco and informed him, “ _You_ are going to brew the remedy for this and _you_ had better hope you get it right on the first try because _I_ am going to brew an identical love potion and test it on you and Goyle.”

            Draco looked like he had swallowed a frog. Weasley snickered.

            “WEASLEY!” Severus boomed.

            The Gryffindor jumped, making a small squeak.

            “I think some adjusting of House Points is required,” Severus announced, his sneer masking a maniacal glee. “Crabbe and Goyle. Thirty points from Slytherin each and a detention each. Miss Granger. Twenty points from Gryffindor for attacking Potter and twenty points to Gryffindor for the same reason. Longbottom, ten points from Gryffindor for doing absolutely nothing to improve the situation.”

            His eyes narrowed as he fixed a keen stare upon Draco and Weasley. “Weasley. Fifty points from Gryffindor and five detentions. Mr. Malfoy… one hundred from Slytherin and ten detentions.”

            Draco’s jaw was on the floor. “But-”

            “If you even _dare_ remind me that Slytherin is my own House it will be another hundred,” Severus warned. “There are days when you put Salazar to shame and I want nothing to do with the whole lot of you.”

            Everyone, especially Granger and Weasley, gave him a look which clearly indicated they believed he had gone mad.

            He continued, “There are rules, Mr. Malfoy, which I did not determine and am bound to enforce. Using a love potion is a serious offence. I am afraid I must suspend you from the House Quidditch Team.” Severus was not happy about this one, especially with a match in a few weeks, but as he had told Draco, he had no choice.

            Draco’s face paled, then turned crimson. “That’s not fair!” he declared. “You’re only doing this because you and Potter’s god-”

            Severus aimed his wand with a choice curse ready to roll of his tongue. It was unnecessary. Draco already realized he had gone to far and had lapsed into a stunned silence.

            “The headmaster. You and I. _Now_ ,” Severus snarled. “Crabbe, Goyle, Longbottom, get lost. Granger, Weasley, take Potter to the Infirmary. Make sure Longbottom doesn’t come anywhere near him- unless you would find _that_ sort of scene amusing.”

            “ _Mobilicorpus!_ ” Granger cast upon Potter. His body floated upright into the air like a puppet and the students eagerly fled, abandoning Draco to Severus.

            Neither Draco’s face nor Severus’s wand had twitched in the slightest. Severus looked him directly in the eye. Draco was too paralyzed by fright to even blink.

            “I don’t know how you know what you know,” Severus stated carefully, “but you have said the last you ever will of it.”

            He roughly seized Draco by the arm and half-dragged him to Dumbledore’s office.

 

* * *

 

            Dumbledore thought Severus’s punishments were adequate, but added to them a lecture which Draco would not soon forget. After that, the Potions Master led the boy back into the dungeon. Although Draco _did_ brew the remedy correctly upon his first attempt, Severus was in a vicious mood and did not administer it to him until after he and Goyle had given each other a big smooch.

            Severus went to the Infirmary with a flask of Draco’s potion. He found Potter awake with Granger and Weasley chatting avidly at him. Severus took one glance at the pair, then commanded, “Out!”

            They left without argument and Severus seated himself next to Potter’s bed.

            “You’re not in trouble,” was the first thing he said, handing him the flask. “Drink this.”

            Potter accepted the potion without question.

            “It should work, but just in case, avoid Longbottom for the next two days,” he cautioned.

            Potter nodded.

            Severus gave him a stern look. “Don’t you have a tongue?”

            He gave a start, then answered, very flustered, “Yes, Professor- thank you-”

            “Don’t thank me. I didn’t brew it. I just made sure it worked.”

            Potter merely nodded again.

            Severus folded his hands. “Your friends probably told you that Draco Malfoy has been suspended from his House’s Quidditch Team. That means Slytherin needs a new Seeker. Hopefully, we can finally find someone who can snatch the Snitch from you without the interference of a dementor.”

            Potter, clearly in spite of himself, laughed. “Thank you.”

            “Don’t thank me,” Severus retorted dryly. “Thank your father. He’s the one you inherited it from.”

            Potter bowed his head for a moment and appeared lost in thought. Severus leaned towards him and lowered his voice. “I have something of a personal nature to ask you, Harry. I need you to be completely honest.”

            He looked up and bit his lip, but answered frankly, “I’ll try.”

            “Who have you told about Sirius and I?”

            Potter looked bewildered. “Only Hermione and Ron- and I know they wouldn’t have told anyone.”

            Severus stared at him for a few moments, sizing him up, then said, “I believe you. I never liked your father, but he was a man of his word.”

            “Professor…” Potter began hesitantly, “may I ask why-”

            “No,” he coldly interrupted. “You may not.”

            Potter fell silent and the only sound was the turning of Severus’s own dark thoughts.

            How did Draco Malfoy know he was in a relationship with Sirius? And what did it mean?

 

* * *

 

            “Severus?” Sirius inquired. “Is something wrong?”

            He watched as Severus idly twirled his fork on his plate and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Why?”

            “You’ve been distracted all evening.”

            “I wasn’t too distracted to make dinner,” he retorted.

            Sirius almost sighed. Why did everything have to be an argument? “You never let me make dinner.”

            “Because you’ll screw it up.”

            The next moment, there was the unmistakable sound of a knock coming from the front door.

“Does _anyone_ realize we have a bell?” Severus asked with a hint of annoyance.

He shoved his chair back and stalked the doorway. Nailed on the wall was spy-mirror, a looking glass Severus had enchanted to reflect the face of whomever was outside. He peered into it and, startled, jerked away.

            “Sirius?” he whispered. “I think you should get it.”

            “Why?” he asked.

            Severus did not elaborate. Instead, he turned back towards the mirror.

            Sirius left his seat and exited the kitchen for the living room. Who could it be? Dumbledore? Severus would have gotten it himself. Harry? That would make sense…

            He opened the door and, bewildered, exclaimed, “Remus?”

            Remus Lupin’s hair was more gray and his robes more shabby than Sirius remembered from October. Tension creased his face. He seemed very tired and there was a strange, almost feral look in his eyes.

            Sirius suddenly realized why. “Remus, what are you doing here? The full moon-”

            “-is tomorrow,” he finished. “Yes, I know, and I can’t stay long.” He began trembling. “I’m not safe to be around. I ran out of potion on the way here. I have to get to the Shrieking Shack-”

            “Couldn’t you just ask Severus to brew-”

            “ _Severus_?” Remus whispered in disbelief. “Sirius, he’s why I had to leave Hogwarts. If he knew I was here-”

            “I’d do what, Lupin?” a stern voice demanded coldly.

            Sirius turned. Severus stood in living room in full view of Remus. The werewolf gasped as he approached the door.

            “Well?” he continued. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

            Remus’s eyes darted to Sirius. “Sirius, what… why is he…?”

            Severus’s face suddenly changed and his mouth formed an “o.” “I’m sorry, Lupin,” he said softly, then turned on Sirius. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

            He hesitated. “I-”

            “Why? Were you embarrassed by what you profess to feel?” Severus accused venomously, “Even after you were so adamant about telling little Potter?”

            Sirius felt Severus’s cold rage biting at his marrow. “Severus, I-”

            “ _I_ ,” he snapped, “am going to my office to get some ingredients and when I come back _you_ had better have _him_ straightened out!”

            He snatched his cloak off its hook and stormed past Remus. Soon, he had disappeared into the twilight.

            “Sirius?” Remus asked softly. “What was that about? Why was Severus here?”

            “He lives here,” he answered.

            Remus’s brow furrowed. “Dumbledore said you live here.”

            “I do. I-” he stopped. “Why don’t you come in and sit down?”

            Remus nodded and accepted his invitation. Sirius gave him a weak smile and led him to the sofa. Tiny butterflies of sickness began to flutter in his stomach. Why did he feel this confession was so difficult? He could trust Remus with anything and he did not question his affections towards Severus.

            _But I don’t understand those affections. I don’t know why I feel this way. I still don’t know what really happened in October…I didn’t kiss Severus. Severus kissed me- but that makes no sense. He would have never…_

            Sirius shook the stray thought from his head. Why bother questioning it? The answer would not change a thing.

            Tentatively he began, “Remus, do you remember that conversation we had in October?”

            “Which one?” his friend inquired.

            He paused. “When I asked you if love and hate could be the same thing?”

            Remus sat silent for several moments as realization slowly stole across his face. “Oh, no,” he said. “You can’t mean what I think you mean.”

            “What do you think I mean?”

            “You…” Remus shut his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, I can’t say it!”

            Sirius firmly urged him, “Do.”

            He whispered, “You couldn’t have been talking about _Severus?_ ”

            Sirius slowly nodded.

            “What… how…” he began to stutter.

            “I don’t understand it either, Remus,” he said. “It doesn’t make any sense and it’s the last thing I would have asked for… but it _is_.”

            Remus took in a deep breath and then exhaled. “How long have you been living together?”

            “Since December. It was Dumbledore’s idea.”

            “And Harry knows?”

            “Yes.”

            “How did he take it?”

            Sirius bit his lip. “Honestly, I don’t know. A lot better than I did, I hope.”

            The front door suddenly burst open. Severus entered with a cauldron full of bottles of bizarre liquids and plants, none of which appeared remotely edible.

            “Stay out of the kitchen,” he ordered. “This isn’t easy and I need to concentrate.”

            He left the living room without another word.

            “You _live_ with him?” Remus asked flatly.

            Sirius shrugged. “It’s interesting. To say the least.”

            Neither knew clearly what to say. For a few minutes more, they sat in nervous silence until Severus called out, “It’s done but it needs to brew! Come into the kitchen!”

            Remus stood up hesitantly. “Should I-”

            “If Severus didn’t want you in the kitchen, he’d let you know,” Sirius assured him. “Come on. I’ll make sure he behaves.”

            Remus smiled uneasily and then followed.

            The kitchen was filled with a strange, foul smelling steam, originating from the cauldron set upon the stove. Sirius noted that it was the one he had given Severus for Christmas.

            “Smells dreadful,” he remarked.

            “Then pity Lupin,” Severus muttered. “He has to drink it.”

            “Thank you, Severus,” said Remus gratefully. “I’ll leave as soon as-”

            “Don’t be stupid, Lupin,” Severus interrupted harshly. “You’re staying here. There’s a spare room upstairs we can set up and if that doesn’t work… I suppose I can deal with a werewolf on the sofa.”

            “You would trust me?” he asked with evident shock.

            “I trust my potion, not you,” he retorted.

            Remus nodded meekly. His discomfort was obvious.

            “What brings you here?” Sirius asked.

            Remus lowered his voice. “It’s about… you-know-who. Not You-Know-Who, but you-know-who.”

Pettigrew.

“I’m not sure how much you want…” he nodded towards Severus, whose back was turned, “to know.”

Sirius thought a moment. Dumbledore had instructed him not to tell Severus anything and, concerning this matter especially, he personally agreed. He gave Remus a conspiratorial look and said, “Let’s go get your luggage.”

            Severus whirled around almost instantly. “He didn’t have any luggage.”

            Sirius quickly swallowed down a small lump of panic. “I’m sorry. My mistake.”

            “You look uncomfortable, Sirius,” he observed. His eyes bore into his skull. “What don’t you want me to know?”

            “Severus,” he began frankly. “I don’t want to endanger you. The less you know-”

            “About the Dark Lord the safer I am?” he finished bitingly. “Oh, think, Sirius! How is ignorance going to protect me? If Voldemort were in a position where he could kill only one of us, who would he pick?”

            “Sirius,” Remus answered simply.

            Severus’s mouth twitched in irritation, then his face became resolved. “I see this is going to be a night of revelation for you, Lupin.”

            Approaching Remus, he rolled up his left sleeve and pulled off the bandage. The skin beneath was clear. As he removed his wand from his pocket, Sirius jumped from his seat. He rushed towards him, but Severus was too quick. Pointing his wand at his arm, he whispered, “ _Morsmordi!_ ”

            The Dark Mark blazed black and bold on his skin. Remus screamed. Sirius pounced upon Severus and locked him in a tight hold. His wand slipped from his fingers.

            “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DID THAT!” Sirius bellowed.

            Severus tried to squirm away but did not succeed. “He has a right to know.”

            “THAT WAS DARK MAGIC!”

            “NO SHIT!” Severus screamed back. “Voldemort made the damn spell himself!”

            “DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!”

            “Let me go!” Severus demanded, suddenly kicking and jabbing violently. “Don’t make me do more- there are things I don’t need a wand for!”

            Sirius very reluctantly released him, but kept his wand aimed at Severus for the slightest movement.

            “What has gotten into you?” he demanded.

            “Funny? _FUNNY?!_ ” Severus screeched. He was wide-eyed and livid. “I have done things you will never _ever_ know about, Sirius Black! I have cast all three of the Unforgivable Curses and conjured beings from your nightmares! Do you understand why I have to know? Do you understand why Voldemort wants me dead? I’M PART OF THE REASON HE NEVER GOT POTTER!”

            “My God,” Remus uttered and Sirius realized his wand was fixed upon Severus as well.

            “Oh come off it, Lupin!” Severus snapped. “It’s exactly what you would have expected of me.”

            “No, it isn’t. I had some faith in you.”

            “How touching.”

            Remus narrowed his eyes. “How could Dumbledore ever allow-”

            “I was his spy,” he said, closing his eyes. “I joined the Death Eaters and got in over my head. Albus Dumbledore showed me the way out. He’s the only reason I avoided Azkaban and my name is now clear. What I did tonight is the first Dark spell I have cast in fifteen years.”

            He turned to Sirius and glared. “I have a right to know what’s going on.”

            “Can we trust him, Sirius?” Remus asked.

            Sirius bowed his head and said nothing.

            “Sirius?” This time it was Severus.

            “I can’t believe you did that,” he whispered.

            “Do you think you’re the only one who has a right to the truth?” he demanded. “Were you going to leave myself _and_ Lupin in the dark? It’s my secret- I have a right to tell it. He _needs_ to know!”

            “I can’t believe-”

            “DO YOU WANT ME TO DRINK VERITASERUM!” he screamed. “I HAVE A BOTTLE OF THAT- WOULD THAT HELP!?”

            “I saw Pettigrew four days ago,” Remus said suddenly. “His face in a crowd. When I went back to my home, it had been ransacked. I headed straight for here. I had just come from the apothecary’s, so I had one flask of Wolfsbane. That’s all I took with me.”

            “That’s all I wanted to know,” Severus said. He knelt down and picked up his wand, then left the kitchen.

            Sirius followed him, demanding, “Where are you going?”

            “The castle,” he answered, putting on his cloak “I’m not staying here tonight.” He opened the door.

            “Why?” he asked gruffly. “Because of Remus?”

            Severus paused in the doorway and turned. “No, because of you,” he said. He was trembling and his tone was inflected with an emotion he was clearly trying to hold back. “Because you obviously don’t want me.”

            Then he left.


	15. Trysts in the Dark

            Sirius stood stunned as the door slammed shut in his face. Sudden rage boiled a second time in his chest.

            _I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe-_

            He felt a hand on his shoulder. A voice spoke firmly, “Go to him.”

            He turned around. Remus’s eyes bore into his with a concentrated stare.

            “What?” he requested.

            “Go to him,” Remus repeated.

            “After that display?”

            “Sirius, do you love him?” he asked.

            “I wish I didn’t…” he muttered angrily.

            “Do you love him?”

            “YES!” Sirius snapped.

            “Then go to him!” Remus cried. “The worst way to deal with Severus is to let him brood over his own thoughts.”

            He protested, “But the way he acted-”

            “I really think you drove him to it. From the way you reacted… you knew he was a Death Eater, didn’t you?”

            Sirius sighed. “Yes,” he answered glumly.

            “You knew that and you still trusted him enough to sleep with him. Why should this change anything?”

            “The way he-”

            “Yes, yes!” Remus hastily agreed. “They way he presented it was wrong. But, Sirius, we don’t have time to argue- Go after him!”

            Sirius gritted his teeth and sighed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it.”

            “And don’t do it for me,” Remus warned.

            “He’s the most infuriating person I know,” Sirius growled as he put on his cloak. “Someone explain to me why I’d still follow him into Hell or even Azkaban.”

 

* * *

 

            Once outside, Sirius changed into a dog and followed Severus by scent. His nose led him not to the castle, but deep into the forest, where he found Severus wandering aimlessly through the thickets and trees. He whimpered slightly. Severus gave a start and turned at the sound. Sirius saw something glimmer on his face. When he had given him enough time to recognize him, he changed back into a man.

            Severus tried to sneer, but his lips failed him and curved back into a dull frown. “You followed me. How sweet,” he said flatly. His voice cracked slightly.

            “Severus,” he said sternly. “Listen-”

            “No, you listen!” he snapped. “It is so ironic that _I_ should be the one to trust you, and not the other way around!”

            Sirius bowed his head. “I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t have done that,” he said softly.

            “Why?” he asked coldly. “You weren’t going to tell me anything. You would just let Voldemort get me- and not because you want him to, but because you’re a moron!”

            Sirius bristled. “You’re a fine one to talk. What about you? All the things you blatantly admitted you’ll never tell me? You except me to bare my soul to you without the same in return?”

            “I gave you something more valuable than my secrets,” he spat. “And now I remember why I have never done that before.”

            Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Oh, would you stop trying to manipulate-”

            “I’m being straight-forward and honest for once!” he shouted. “And it feels so out of character and I hate it! So just go away so I can find who I was again!” He turned away and muttered angrily, “You are so _stupid!_ You have no idea the effect you have on me. I have never felt like this before. I have never wanted to confess everything before and I hate it!”

            Sirius’s heart quivered at his words. He stepped towards him and embraced him from behind. Severus stiffened.

            “Go away,” he whispered sullenly.

            Sirius raised his hand to stroke his cheek and felt something wet under his eyes.

            “You’re crying,” he said.

            “Oh, _shut up!_ ” Severus yelled, but there was nothing funny about it this time. He sounded desperate and wounded. He broke from his hold. “Just go away!”

            He dashed off into the forest. Sirius hung his head.

            “Alright, Severus,” he whispered sadly, and turned back towards the cabin.

 

* * *

 

            Severus trampled through the forest. Thrones snagged his robes and branches buffeted him from all sides, but he did not care. He would rather feel the pain of Cruciatus Curse than the throbbing in his chest.

            _I knew this would happen. I knew. I knew- and I forgot and I let it. Why can’t I just be who I was again? Why can’t the world just let me hate everybody in peace?_

            He stopped to catch his breath. The sound of his inhalations was ragged. He did not know where he was going. Not to the castle, and certainly not to the cabin. Perhaps he would just wander the forest all night.

            _I’ll find some place to bury Padfoot’s chew toy and when I come out, I’ll be Professor Snape again._

He knelt on the ground as he felt a sob rise from his throat.

            _What is wrong with me!_ he thought angrily. He had not cried since he was seven. He balled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms. _I want to be who I was six months ago! I hate you, Sirius Black! So much deeper than ever before! I hate you for making me into this, this pathetic, weak, little-_

            “Arrrgh!” he screamed in frustration and slammed his fist into a tree. He realized he had just injured his wand hand. Well, good. Another reason to hate Black. He took a deep breath and stood up, wiping his face with his one good hand. He transferred his wand from his right to left pocket, in case he needed it.

            He wandered through the woods, trying to nurse his anger and ignore his sorrow, yet somehow only succeeding in doing the reverse. Wolves howled at to the moon and the sound of night encroached on his solitude, but he did not fear them. He knew how to handle anything in the forests of Hogwarts.

            As Severus passed by a shadowed glade, he heard a voice speaking in hushed tones, “…a petty crime, but he will pay for that and others I assure you. Were you able to obtain the ingredients?”

            “No, Father,” answered another, familiar voice.

            Severus almost gasped as he recognized the sound. Draco Malfoy! He crouched down and peered through the bushes into the glade. In the gloom, he could just make out the form of Lucius Malfoy and his son.

            _I will have him expelled for this_ , Severus thought with determination, _after I capture his father for Azkaban!_

            Lucius seemed slightly displeased. “You know we must have them before April.”

            “I will try,” said Draco earnestly. “But it’s more difficult now. I don’t know if I can do it without being caught. And the plan doesn’t seem to be working.”

            “I know,” he answered. “Our Lord is disturbed by this. He will try the device again and if it fails… by May, it will be destroyed. That will kill them both.”

            Severus had heard enough. He carefully aimed his wand and whispered, “ _Morsmordi!_ ”

            Lucius’s right hand immediately flew to his left arm. He rolled up his sleeve. “A summons?” he mused aloud. “No, this doesn’t feel like-”

            “You can forget your plot, Lucius Malfoy,” Severus boldly announced with a cold sneer, stepping into the grove with his wand before him.

            The moonlight played off Lucius’s face, pale and pointed like his son’s, giving an eerie sheen to his thick, light blond hair as his mouth began to curl into a snarl of rage. The guttural sound never came; he quickly calmed and composed himself. “Well, well, Severus Snape. The man of the hour.”

            Severus was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

            “You don’t know?”

            Severus glared as Lucius laughed.

            “I’m not here to play games, Malfoy,” he warned. “You will come with me-”

            “Or what?” he demanded.

            Severus decided that now was not the time to exchange quips or mess around with penny-ante curses. He raised his wand. “ _Imper-_ ”

            “ _Quietus!_ ” Lucius cast and Severus’ voice left him in a gasp.

            Severus’s mind raced rapidly to find the counter-spell, and found it useless. He could not speak. He steeled himself to lunge at Lucius, but before he could move, Lucius summoned thick cords which wound about his body, binding him. He gave him a sinister smirk and tapped his wand against Severus’s chin, gloating.

            “Not very impressive, Severus,” he remarked. “You’ve lost your touch.” He turned to his son. “Draco, take out your wand.”

            Draco obeyed and instinctively aimed it at Severus.

            “How would you like to _really_ gain the Dark Lord’s favor?”

            “I would like that very much, Father,” he said, never taking his eyes off his professor.

            “Then you can dispose of this traitor for him,” said Lucius, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m going to teach you a little spell. It’s called ‘ _Avada Kedavra_ ’.”

            A maliciously mirthful smile spread over Draco’s face. Severus closed his eyes. He wanted an image of his own devising, not that twisted grin, a cruel parody of his childhood, to be the last thing he saw.

            A savage roar tore through the night. Severus’s eyes sprung open. A black dog of incredible size had barreled into Draco and was now tearing at Lucius. Severus tried to speak, but his voice came out only as a squeak. In a flash, the dog became a man. Sirius punched Lucius in the mouth with a sickening crunch. He then pointed his wand at Severus.

            “ _Relashio! Sonorus!_ ” he shouted.

            The cords around Severus disintegrated. He snatched his wand from the dirt, just as Sirius changed again into a dog. Padfoot opened his mouth wide and prepared to close his jaws around Lucius’s throat.

            “Father!” Draco shouted and committed one of the few valiant acts of his life. He threw himself at Sirius.

            The boy and the dog tussled in the grass. Sirius scratched violently at his face and arms and inevitably emerged the victor, pinning Draco to the ground with sheer weight. Lucius began to rise, but Severus cast at him, “ _Stupefy!_ ”

            Severus jumped over a prone and dazzled Lucius to join Sirius. From the feral look in Sirius’s eye, he wondered if whom he was gazing upon was truly an Animagus or beast. He raised his paw, nails ready to slash across the boy’s throat.

            “SIRIUS!” Severus screamed. “DON’T!”

            The dog jumped off Draco, simultaneously morphing into a man. He raised his wand- “ _Mobilicorpus!_ ”- and Draco hovered in midair, paralyzed by both spell and terror, with blood running down his pallid cheeks.

            “Why shouldn’t I kill the boy?” Sirius asked dangerously.

            “Because he is a boy,” Severus said. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

            “He’ll grow up to be a Death Eater like his father. Killing him is a mercy- he’ll go to the beyond with his soul still clear.”

            “Sirius,” he whispered, “I used to be that boy.”

            “I will never be you!” Draco suddenly spat. “I’m no traitor!”

            Severus slapped him across the face. “You are nothing if not a fool! Do you have any idea what Voldemort’s reign over the wizarding world would mean? No! All you know is your father’s own power-hungry delusions of grandeur! HOLD YOUR TONGUE!”

            Draco simply started at him. Suddenly his eyes darted to a point behind them.

            “Turn around,” Lucius commanded. “Slowly.”

            Severus and Sirius glanced at each other, but obeyed. Lucius stood with a wand in each hand, his in the right pointed at Severus, and his son’s in the left aimed at Sirius. He was grinning despite that his mouth was full of his own blood and his once-perfect white teeth were now stained and crooked from Sirius’s fist.

            “Whoever moves first,” Lucius warned, “I’ll kill the other.”

            Severus narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you want?”

            Lucius smiled cruelly, his lips red as if painted. “Exactly this, because this is exactly what Voldemort wants. He’ll be so pleased-”

            “ _Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!_ ”

            The two wands flew from Lucius’s hands. He turned around- and had only three seconds to scream.

            Remus Lupin held Draco and Lucius Malfoy’s wands between his hands- and snapped them both in two.

            “My wand!” Lucius cried in outrage. “MY WAND!”

            Lupin threw the four pieces at him. “Take the boy and get out,” he calmly ordered. His eyes seemed to glow.

            Lucius hesitated.

            “Do you know who I am?” Lupin asked. He pointed to the moon nearing full. “Or _what_ I am?”

            Lucius shivered in spite of himself. As he bent to pick up the shards of wand, Sirius released Draco. Lucius approached and took his son’s hand.

            “I’m afraid your time at Hogwarts is over,” he said. “But I think now we have the resources to teach you better at home.”

            As they walked together, steadily away from school grounds, Severus called out, “I would not come back here again if I were you, Lucius!”

            Lucius turned. “There will be another for you,” he warned ominously. Then they disappeared from view.

            Severus felt so emotionally exhausted that he wanted to faint. He took one step and nearly toppled, but Sirius caught him in his arms and held him in a furious embrace.

            “I’ll never let them hurt you,” he whispered fervently. “Never, never-”

            Severus suddenly felt very stupid because he started to cry again.

            “Forgive me, Severus,” Sirius was trembling. “I almost lost you. I’ll never, never doubt you. Never. I’ll never let them hurt you-”

            “Don’t,” Severus croaked. “Don’t promise anything-”

            “But I do.”

            Severus protested, “There’s more than one person you love!”

            Sirius kissed him gently.

            “Sirius,” he whispered, “I know how their minds work. They’ll try to put you in a position where you have to choose and if they do… choose Harry. You better choose Harry or I’ll kill you.”

            Sirius just held him tighter. “That won’t happen. I’ll protect you both.”

            Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.

            “We should get back to the cabin,” Lupin urged.

            Sirius half-carried Severus home. Lupin walked before them. He was somewhat agitated and Severus realized he had not yet drunk his potion. Back at the cabin, Sirius gently laid Severus on the sofa, while Lupin went into the kitchen.

            Sirius tenderly stroked his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said over and over.

            Severus sniffled. “Damn it, why can’t I stop crying?”

            “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

            “I know,” he said.

            “I love you. I love you.”

            Severus opened his mouth- but no words came. It was those three syllables that Sirius had just uttered which terrified him the most.

            “I’ve never said it,” he realized suddenly. “I’ve never said that to you. What you just said to me.”

            “I know,” Sirius said. He looked away but could not hide the hurt. “Why?”

            “I was afraid.”

            “Are you still?”

            Severus paused. He still felt a pain in his chest, but it was different this time. It was an ache he did not want to go away.

            _Why should I be so afraid? I have all but spoken it. I’ve already given myself to him._

            “I love you, Sirius.”


	16. Small Comfort

            “And this is the tale in full?” Dumbledore asked. The twinkle in his eye had taken on a strange, almost suggestive, quality.

            Sirius chanced a glance at Severus. “Yes,” he answered, a tad too uneasy. “I can’t think of anything else.”

            Dumbledore nodded, more in acknowledgement than acceptance. True, Sirius and Severus had presented a somewhat edited version of last night’s events to the headmaster, but why should Dumbledore suspect such? Just how much did he know of the occurrences at Hogwarts?

            _Not everything_ , Sirius thought. _In October, he thought we were fighting not… well, I don’t suppose one could really call that night “sleeping” together…_

            He hoped that Dumbledore’s suspicions were no more than that. His self-control concerning Draco had been severely lacking and he doubted the headmaster would look favorably upon Severus willingly invoking the Dark Mark.

            “So,” said Dumbledore with finality, “it has begun.”

            Sirius clutched Severus’s hand. Unlike last time, he did not shove it away, but gripped it in return.

            “Where is Remus now?”

            “In our cabin,” answered Severus. “He’ll transform tonight, but I brewed his potion. He is safe.”

            Dumbledore nodded. “We’ll keep him there until after the moon. I’ll have a room in the castle prepared for him.”

            “With all due respect, Headmaster, are you sure that’s wise?” he questioned. “I know my Slytherins. They can be a nasty lot when they want to be and if they see Lupin…”

            “The students will not know of Remus’s presence,” he assured him. “There are many little known, little used passages to the castle. I had anticipated something of this nature. I’m afraid Remus is only the first of many whom Voldemort will force to seek refuge at Hogwarts.”

            He paused. “It is apparent that Draco Malfoy will not be returning to Hogwarts. Even if he were, I would consider having him expelled. Gentlemen, what do you think should be done?”

            “I think he should be kidnapped and separated from his father so he can have his head sorted out,” voiced Severus. “But it’s doubtful anyone will succeed at that.”

            Sirius only stated, “They should both be sent to Azkaban.”

            Dumbledore looked at him sharply. “I’m much surprised you would wish that fate upon anyone, Sirius, especially a child. No, I was not referring to the Malfoys. I wish to know what you think should be done about yourselves.”

            “What do you think should be done?” Severus asked quietly.

            “This situation is much more serious than I had anticipated,” said Dumbledore, “and I think extreme measures might be warranted. Severus, Sirius, I must ask you to choose a Secret-Keeper.”

            Sirius felt himself turn icy. “What?”

            “Just for the summer,” Dumbledore continued. “You and Severus will go into hiding…”

            “Is it really that serious?” Severus whispered.

            “You might have died last night. Yes, it is that serious.”

            “But the Fidelius Charm! The last time it was used…”

            Sirius closed his eyes. “Lily and James…”

            Dark memories and deep regrets swirled up from the depths of his soul to the front of his mind.

            _It should have been me. If I had never told them to choose Pettigrew… It should have been me. It should have been me, and I will always pay for that._

            “I offered to be the Potters’ Secret-Keeper,” said Dumbledore, “and now I make the same offer to you.”

            A strange and tense stillness pervaded every corner of the room.

            “You and Sirius are the only people I trust,” said Severus quietly. “When will you perform the Charm?”

            “At the end of the school year. Then in September, you will return to Hogwarts and next June I will cast the Charm again if necessary.”

            Severus nodded.

            Dumbledore continued, “I want you to neither confirm nor deny any rumors concerning Draco Malfoy’s absence, no matter what their stories entail. And Sirius, I do not want Harry to know what happened last night.”

            “Can we tell him Remus is here?” Sirius asked.

            “Only if necessary. I trust your discretion.”

            Severus stood up. “I’m late for my first class. I’ll see you after school, Sirius. Thank you very much, headmaster.”

            “Be very careful, Severus,” Dumbledore cautioned. “No more late-night excursions into the forest.”

            Severus nodded and left.

 

* * *

 

            Draco Malfoy’s sudden disappearance spawned a series of rumors. The Slytherins’ tales all spoke sympathetically of impending danger and bravery. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws’ were much more critical and the Gryffindors’ unabashedly vicious. The Gryffindor rumors, however, were also the closest to the truth.

            Within the week, Crabbe’s and Goyle’s parents pulled them from Hogwarts. Twelve other Slytherins followed. Severus recognized all of the family names. They were of Death Eaters.

 

* * *

 

            Wearily, Severus surveyed the empty classroom. Shards of glass rested in noxious puddles which bubbled and changed colors as they spread and engulfed the powders and other liquids strewn across the floor.

            Even with the presence of the Weasley twins, he never had anticipated such chaos and discord from his seventh-years. Nor had he dreamed that the source would not be the Gryffindors, but rather, the Slytherins.

            _My own House_ , he reflected bitterly, then realized, _Voldemort’s House._

            They knew. By some strange clairvoyance, the Slytherins were aware that Draco’s disappearance was linked to Severus. He had felt the keen eyes of his vipers cut into him sharply as he passed through the halls, but never had he supposed the situation would become so extreme.

            _I can’t head this House anymore_ , he thought. _They’re all fools- they have no idea what their actions mean!_

            He closed his eyes. He did not want to believe it, but perhaps it was true. Perhaps to be a Slytherin was to be cursed to the Darkness…

            “Professor?” a startled voice inquired.

            Severus opened his eyes. Harry Potter was carefully wending his way around the puddles, across the room to the Potions Master’s desk.

            “What are you doing here, Potter?” Severus asked sharply. “You don’t have Potions this period.”

            “I know,” he agreed. “But the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor said it was okay.”

            Severus narrowed his eyes. The DADA teachers always developed an affinity for the boy… but in each instance, the results had been near disastrous.

            “What do you want?” he demanded, sneering. Just because he shared a bed with Potter’s godfather did not mean he had to like the child.

            “I…” he began, then hastily blurted, “Does- does Draco Malfoy’s disappearance have anything to do with… You-Know-Who?”

            Severus spoke on reflex. “Say Voldemort, Harry.”

            “I usually do to myself,” Potter confessed. “But most people get uncomfortable-”

            “I am not one of them,” Severus snapped. “I refuse to live in fear of a name.”

            _No, I’ll just live in fear of everything else about him…_

He clenched his fist, suppressing a shiver. He would not tremble- not in front of Harry Potter.

            “Well… is he?” Potter prodded. “Is Voldemort the reason Draco Malfoy is gone?”

            He hesitated. Dumbledore’s adjuration to Sirius no doubt applied to himself and the headmaster had ordered he speak nothing concerning the rumors. Yet, if Draco’s departure meant all that Severus feared, that the child’s future as a Death Eater was sealed…

            Know thy enemy. It was one- perhaps the first- adage of survival. To deny Potter the knowledge…

            But Potter would not keep it to himself. He would tell Granger and Weasley, and in short order the entire Gryffindor Tower would be abuzz with the news that Professor Snape himself had confirmed the most vicious of their rumors.

             “I don’t know, Harry.”

            Potter bit his lip, but nodded.

            “Do not concern yourself with it,” Severus warned. “You have a test on Tuesday and possibly a Quidditch match on the twentieth.”

            Potter gave him a startled glance. “Possibly, Professor?”

            “Slytherin has lost a Beater, its Keeper, and of course, its Seeker,” he replied. “I don’t know if they can be replaced in time.”

            “Professor…” Potter took a deep breath. “Professor, if Malfoy’s disappearance _did_ have something to do with Voldemort… you would have told me, wouldn’t you?”

            Severus blinked and gave him a cold, indifferent glare. “Mr. Potter, I don’t think I need to elaborate just how presumptuous your statement is. If it were true- and I assure you it is not- why would I ever share such knowledge with a student?”

            “Sorry, Professor,” the boy mumbled. He retreated from the room.

 

* * *

 

            Severus had only one comfort now, and that was Sirius. They rarely bickered and when they made love, it was less violent and more desperate. They shared the ominous sense that at any moment, something might come which would tear them apart.

            In the dark of the night, Severus shivered as Sirius caressed him tenderly and whispered, “I’ll never let them hurt you. Never.”

            Severus closed his eyes. “But what can you do if they try?”


	17. Gryffindor Versus Slytherin

            Harry stood in the moonlight surrounded by tongues of black flame. The fire did not burn. It felt cold as ice and he shivered. Dark shapes surrounded him and above, a great skull with a snake slithering from its mouth glittered among the stars like a hundred pale emeralds. Voldemort’s mark, yet he felt no fear, only anticipation.

            A voice above him boomed, “You have vowed your honor, you have vowed your valor, and you have vowed your life to my service and aid. Now I ask of you one final thing. Do you pledge to me your soul, Severus Snape?”

            Harry answered without hesitation, in a voice not his own, “I do.”

            “Hold out your left arm,” Voldemort’s disembodied voice commanded.

            He did so- it was not truly his arm, but Snape’s- and a thin beam of red light suddenly seared his skin, etching upon it in black the same symbol shimmering the sky.

 

* * *

 

            Harry bolted straight up in bed, out of breath and nearly screaming.

            He had had the dream twice before, but never had it been so vivid. He imagined he could feel the burning on his own skin. 

            The first time the scene had played in his mind was the eighteenth of February, the same day he had drunk the Polyjuice which transformed him into Snape. Could the potion have somehow transferred a shred of Snape’s memory into his brain?

            _But that didn’t happen when I used it to become Goyle during second-year._

            Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that while Harry had been Snape, Snape had also been Harry? Had it created a link between them? He certainly seemed prone to that sort of thing given the many connections- such as his wand, his scar, and his ability to speak Parseltongue- that existed between himself and Voldemort. If that was so, then what memory of Harry’s had Snape gained? Probably the image he saw whenever he got close to a dementor…

            He should have told someone the first time the dream occurred. He should have spoken Dumbledore, or at least, Sirius. He had not for one reason; it was Snape’s memory and it was personal. But now that it had reappeared…

            _I’m just going to have to suck it up and talk to Snape_ , he thought.

            It was unfortunate that his first opportunity would not be until after the Quidditch match tomorrow. Harry was determined to win and if he succeeded, the Potions Master would be in a foul mood.

            But Harry was used to Snape being in a mood.

 

* * *

 

            “Come on, Sirius!” Severus shouted up the stairs. “I’m not going to be late even if I have to leave without you!”

            “I can’t find my shoe!” Sirius called back.

            “You probably chewed on it!”

            “What?” he called, confused.

            Severus rolled his eyes. “What do you need shoes for? You’re going as a dog anyway!”

            “I got it!” Sirius announced, then emerged from the bedroom. As he came down the stairs, he asked, “Are you sure the Slytherins won’t mind a dog in the stands?”

            “Slytherins?” he repeated. “I thought you were going to sit with Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley to be on the Gryffindor side.”

            “The view’s better from the Slytherin stands, plus I’d feel safer with a close eye on you.”

            Severus sighed. “No one is going to attempt anything at a Quidditch match.”

            “Someone tried jinxing Harry’s broom-”

            “Yes, but Dumbledore will be there. Don’t worry so much,” he said. “This is an opportunity to forget our troubles for a few hours and just enjoy ourselves. Or as best as we can enjoy ourselves,” he muttered.

            Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Why won’t you enjoy yourself?”

            “I already know what’s going to happen,” he grumbled. “Potter will catch the Snitch. He always gets the Snitch.”

            Sirius grinned, then morphed.

 

* * *

 

            As usual, the entire school had come for the match. Harry glanced about the stands. He spotted Hagrid easily among the Gryffindors and from there spied Ron and Hermione, who were sitting next to him. He turned towards the Slytherins and soon found Snape; he was the only spot of black amid a sea of green and silver. Harry squinted his eyes and thought he could just make out the figure of a dog resting its head in the Potions Master’s lap. He suddenly felt very happy.

            The emotion was not shared by the Slytherins. Behind masks of fierce determination, the green-robed Quidditch players vainly hid their apprehension. Almost half of their team had been replaced in the past two weeks and the only one who appeared confident was their new Seeker, a third-year named Alexandra Reeve. Alexandra reminded Harry a bit of Cho in a very odd way, as if she were a younger, twisted mirror of the Ravenclaw. She was pretty and very lithe. Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her violet eyes regarded him much in the manner that a cat would a canary. Despite that he was larger and two years older than her, Harry felt a bit intimidated.

            The Bludgers and the Golden Snitch were released. Madam Hooch tossed the Quaffle in the air- and the game began!

            Gryffindor took the Quaffle, putting Slytherin on the defensive. The Quaffle exchanged hands several times, but Slytherin only scored twice to Gryffindor’s seven. Harry tried as best as he could to tune out Jordan’s quirky commentary. His eyes scanned the skies, searching for the familiar golden glimmer- while Alexandra’s eyes seemed to bore straight through his body.

            Gryffindor scored again. The students cheered and then Harry saw it. He was off, faster than an arrow on his Firebolt, as the Snitch zoomed towards the Slytherin stands. Alexandra followed, spiraling around him crazily in concentric circles, trying to distract him. She was not a nuisance for long. The speed of her Nimbus Two Thousand and One was no match for his Firebolt; he soon outdistanced her. He gripped his broom handle tightly and extended his left hand. His fingers began to close around the Snitch-

            A sudden pain jolted through his arm. His hand involuntarily jerked back. Alexandra dived-

 

* * *

 

            Everyone in the Slytherin stands stood up and cheered.

            Alexandra Reeve had caught the Snitch!

 

* * *

 

            A wild celebration was taking place in the Slytherin common room. Silver and green streamers, confetti, and even candy flew about the room while a group of sixth-years enacted an exaggerated imitation of Potter’s fumble.

            “You are all going to clean this up afterwards!” Severus reminded them sharply.

            “Of course, Professor Snape!” Alexandra Reeve called back cheerily. She was sitting on a chair atop a table and wearing- of all things- a tiara with a broken Snitch as the crown jewel.

            Severus looked down at the dog at his feet. “Come on,” he mumbled crossly. “They don’t need my supervision to tear the place apart.”

            They exited the common room, entering the dungeons, then left the castle. Severus’s thoughts were heavy as he crossed the grounds. Slytherin had beaten Gryffindor for the first time since Potter became a Seeker. He should be happy about that, but instead, his mind continuously replayed the last moments of the game, focusing upon the odd way Potter’s hand had moved just before Alexandra had gotten the Snitch…

            “Professor!” a voice called out. “Professor Snape!”

            Severus turned around. Harry Potter, still in his Quidditch robes, rushed towards him with his Firebolt in hand.

            “Potter?” Severus asked. “What-”

            Potter stopped before him and caught his breath. His face was pale. “I need to talk to you and Sirius. Something’s very wrong-”

            Severus placed his hand on his shoulder and ushered him towards the cabin. “Come along,” he ordered and, feeling a sudden need for haste, dashed for home.

            Back at the cabin, Severus closed the door and locked it. Sirius changed again to human and guided Potter to the sofa.

            “What is it?” Sirius asked, reacting to the panic in Potter’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

            Severus leaned Potter’s Firebolt against the wall, then took a seat by Sirius.

            “I should have told you sooner,” Potter said. “I really, really should have told you sooner-”

            “So tell us now,” Severus snapped.

            Potter took a deep breath. “The night after I took the Polyjuice that changed me into Professor Snape, I had a dream. I was… I was standing in the middle of a ring of black flame and the Dark Mark was in the sky over my head. There were people around me and I heard Voldemort’s voice asking me to… to give him my soul…”

            Severus’s heart skipped a beat.

            “He called me by name- only it was Professor Snape’s name-”

            “The initiation ceremony,” said Severus dully. “The Death Eater initiation ceremony.”

            Sirius’s eyes darted from Potter to Severus. “Can Polyjuice do that? Transfer a memory?”

            “It shouldn’t. But if some outside power interfered…” he hesitated. “Then it is possible…”

            “I had the dream again last night,” Potter said. “And then, today, during the match, when I was just about to grab the Snitch, I felt a pain, and-”

            He stopped and suddenly began to quiver.

            “What?” Sirius asked anxiously.

            _Impossible…_ Severus shook his head. _It can’t be what I think._

            Potter held out his left arm and rolled up his sleeve.

            Branded on his skin was the Dark Mark.


	18. Moonlit Broomride

            There was a good deal of screaming and angry declarations, none of which were directed at anybody in the room, then after about two hours, everyone calmed down considerably.

            “I’m sorry, Harry,” said Sirius, trembling. “If I had known-”

            “You couldn’t have,” Severus replied. “Polyjuice isn’t supposed to do this. It _can’t_ do this.”

            “How- how can I get it to go away?” Harry asked.

            Severus shook his head. “You can’t. In time, it will fade, but it will always be there.”

            Sirius turned to him. “How did this happen?”

            “I don’t know,” he confessed. “Voldemort must have sensed the Mark leave me when I took the Polyjuice and then sensed it appear on Harry. He could have used an enchantment that would make it remain upon him after the Polyjuice wore off.”

            “But wouldn’t I have felt it?” Harry asked. “In the dream, it hurt.”

            “It doesn’t have to hurt. Voldemort designed the spell so that it would, but the pain wasn’t necessary.”

            “But my scar didn’t-”

            “You did not have your scar then,” Severus reminded. “I did. And I didn’t feel anything from it.”

            “What we do now?” Sirius questioned.

            “The only thing we can do. Confess everything to Dumbledore.” He dropped his face into his hands. “My career is over.”

            Harry began, “We don’t have-”

            Severus’s head popped straight up. “Don’t try being noble!” he snapped. “This is my fault-”

            “No, it’s mine,” Sirius interrupted.

            “It doesn’t matter!” he declared. “The only thing that really matters in this Potter. He defeated Voldemort once and he will be the one who finishes him in the end. I do believe that!”

            Harry looked at him miserably. “But now that I have this…”

            “As long as you can keep it out of sight, it’s an advantage. You’ll be able to tell when the Dark Lord summons Death Eaters and when he directs dark energy at you,” Severus said, reaching into his robe. He took out a bandage and tied it around Harry’s arm, then stood up. “I’m going to go make dinner and tell Dumbledore you’re staying here tonight. Tomorrow… we’ll wait until tomorrow to tell him about this.” With a resigned sigh, he left and entered the kitchen.

            “Will Dumbledore really fire him?” Harry asked Sirius.

            “I don’t know,” he answered. “But that’s not really the issue. Harry, I’m very afraid for the both of you.”

 

* * *

 

            Dinner was tense and silent. No one ate much; Severus twiddled with his fork, Harry was too queasy with nerves to contemplate food, and Sirius was too full with guilt to stomach anything else.

            _This is all my fault_ , he thought. _Just because I wanted a day trip out of the house. I promised James I’d take care of him, and now look what’s happened. I missed the first thirteen years of his life and now this…_

            And that was to say nothing of the possible repercussions for Severus…

            After the plates were cleared, Sirius converted to sofa into a bed for Harry, then retired upstairs with Severus. Remaining robed and chaste for the evening in case his godson needed them, they merely lay in each other’s arms.

            Severus, as usual, drifted into slumber first, as close to peace as he ever came. Sirius felt the rise and fall of his chest against his own and clutched his body a little tighter. He could not shake a sense of foreboding, of a darkness surrounding them, waiting to close upon them. Severus was in his embrace and that was all he wanted now, as if his hold could keep his… his lover. Yes, that was what Severus was now, his lover, and he wanted to pretend, if only for a moment, that his arms could keep him safe.

            Sirius knew nothing to be certain except for this, that whatever happened, he and Severus would face it together. That was simply how it was and how it would be for the rest of their lives, however short or long that time might be. Six months ago, he would have named Severus as the most loathsome man on the planet without hesitation, but now, it was because of him that Sirius had again found a home.

 

* * *

 

            _Snip. Snip._

            Sirius awoke less than an hour later to a strange squeak, like scissors, sounding in his ear. He opened his eyes slowly, careful not to appear to have stirred. The shadow of a figure moved across the room and reached down towards Severus’s hair.

            Hair? Someone was cutting Severus’s hair? What for, unless…

            _Polyjuice._

            Sirius snatched his wand from the nightstand. “ _Lumos!_ ”

            The figure sprung away from the light and, startled, Severus awoke. Together they stared at it, a wretch of man cowering against the wall, and Sirius felt his heart change to stone.

            “ _Gossmere!_ ” Sirius whispered and Severus cast the same. His night robe changed into his normal attire and he left the bed. He approached the figure coldly, with his wand aimed at its heart.

            “After everything, I’m surprised you had the spine to return.”

            “Si-sirius…” Peter Pettigrew stuttered.

            “Don’t even SPEAK!” he cried. “What were you doing cutting Severus’s hair? _Polyjuice_?”

            Severus gasped. “Was that what he was doing?”

            “Ma…Master…” Pettigrew stuttered. “…wishes-”

            “Tell Voldemort to go to Hell!” Sirius snapped.

            Pettigrew winced but continued. “- to ma-make you an offer, Se-severus.”

            Severus began, “I’ll make no bargains with-”

            “If you do no-not ap-pparate to him by to-tomorrow night,” pleaded Pettigrew, “both you and Sirius will die.”

            “You first, Pettigrew!” Sirius declared. “ _Avada_ -”

            In that instant, Pettigrew changed to a rat. Sirius immediately stuffed his wand in his pocket and became Padfoot. The vermin scurried from the room, the dog bolting after it.

 

* * *

 

            “Sirius!” Severus shouted, chasing after the two Animagi. He followed them, racing down the stairs, out the front door- why wasn’t he surprised the door was wide open?- and across the Hogwarts grounds.

            The light of the moon was just enough that he could distinguish the silhouette of Sirius’s canine form from the vegetation of the landscape. His heart pounded wildly; he willed his feet to move as fast, but they did not obey. He was not gaining on the rat or the dog; he was merely delaying the moment at which they would slip away beyond his sight, beyond his grasp, and if he lost Sirius now, it could be forever, for where Pettigrew was, Voldemort’s other minions could not be far behind…

            “Professor!” a voice shouted, first behind, then beside him. Hovering close to the ground was Potter on his Firebolt. “Professor Snape, jump on!”

            Potter slowed down and somehow Severus managed to scramble over the broom handle.

            “Hang on, Professor,” Potter warned.

            They shot off into the night like a comet. Severus nearly screamed in terror at the sheer speed. He clung for dear life to the only thing available- which happened to be Potter, but at the moment, he hardly cared. Panic left him too irrational to consider that Potter might have trouble guiding his broom with his Potion Master’s arms wrapped around his waist like a vise.

            He could only assume Potter knew where he was going; his eyes were tightly shut and he was too terrified to open them. They flew through the forest, he conjectured in the opposite direction of Hogsmeade. Potter did not dither trying to avoid the branches; tree limbs tore at Severus’s robes and lacerated his skin, but he did not care, did not care what happened so long as he reached Sirius-

            He felt a rush of unbridled wind and found in himself the courage to open his eyes. They had emerged from the woods into a vast open field. The Animagi were already halfway to the horizon, Pettigrew propelled by fear and Sirius by a hatred that went beyond any sense of the word. Dread slid like slime down Severus’s throat and into his stomach. Even the Firebolt had been no more than a delay to the inevitable; he could feel Sirius’s presence as if it were a tangible substance beside him slipping away…

            _I’m going to lose him. I have to do something! I’m going to lose him!_

            There was only one thing to do. “Harry,” he croaked awkwardly. “Harry, don’t be alarmed, but what I’m about to do- this could get me sent to Azkaban.”

            “Professor-” Potter asked half in protest, but Severus ignored him.

            He cleared his mind of everything, of the whipping air about him, of the speed of his flight, of anything but Sirius and slowly released his grip on Potter. He placed a hand firmly upon the boy’s shoulder to brace himself and then, summoning a courage he did not waste time wondering if he truly had, he stood up on the Firebolt. The ferocity of the wind threatening to knock him off the handle was nothing to the determination in his heart. He drew his wand from his sleeve, held it high above his head, then opened his mouth to speak in a language he had not uttered for fifteen years.

            As the first syllables of the Dark Tongue grated upon Potter’s ears, he gave a start and lost control. The Firebolt careened towards the earth, but it had already been close to the ground; Severus, acting purely on instinct, leapt off and rolled across the grass, then sprung to his feet. Poisonous green and black sparks sputtered from the end of his wand. A scream of pain tore into the night and Pettigrew writhed on the ground, forced by Severus’s spell to revert to a human.

            Severus did not stop; he continued to chant, waving his wand again and again as he threw all manner of curses at Pettigrew, occasionally spitting out a Cruciatus for good measure. Pettigrew screamed in agony, but Severus did not relent, completely unaware that Potter and an again human Sirius were gasping at him in horror. Finally, when Pettigrew had been reduced to little more than a blubbering mass of humanity, he lowered his wand.

            “Shall I kill him, Sirius?” he asked.

            “No,” answered Sirius, with a dangerously satisfied glint in his eyes. “Allow me.”

            As he reached in his robe for his wand, Pettigrew screamed, “ _MASTER!_ ”

            Fire flared in Severus’s arm. Potter gasped in pain, clutching his forehead. Streaks of light appeared and swirled around them. Pettigrew disappeared, and the world became a blur, became a centrifuge, spinning faster and faster until it exploded.


	19. Mirrors and Fountains

            Sirius awoke with a headache and stars in his eyes. Frigid winds whipped at his robes. His hand was clutched tightly around something. Slowly, he unclenched it and realized that the object was his wand. He stood up and glanced about. He appeared to be on the top level of a ruined tower. The ceiling and most of the once circular wall were gone, exposing him to the night. Judging by the temperature, he was far north of Hogwarts.

            He called out, “Harry? Severus?”

            “Behind you, Sirius,” he heard Severus respond.

            He turned. Severus was a few paces away, kneeling next to Harry, who was lying on the ground with his face screwed up in pain. His left arm was exposed and the bandage removed. Severus tenderly stroked the patch of skin which bore the Dark Mark.

            “I can’t make it go away, but sometimes this helps ease it,” Severus told Harry, who nodded. “Unfortunately, it probably hurts you more because of your mother. It’s in direct conflict with the protection in your skin.”

            Sirius approached. “Is he alright?”

            He nodded, “Just the Mark- and the scar, of course.”

            With Severus’s help, Harry stood up. “Where are we?” he asked.

            “Severus?” Sirius deferred the question to him.

            Severus’s eyes surveyed the area. “No idea.”

            “How will we get back?” Harry asked.

            “Apparate?” he suggested.

            Sirius shook his head. “No good. Harry doesn’t know how to apparate.”

            Severus hesitantly began, “Well… I _do_ know a spell… but it’s…”

            “Dark?” he finished.

            Severus nodded.

            “Just how much of the Dark Arts _do_ you know?”

            “You don’t really want to know,” he warned. He paused, then said, “I think we should do it.”

            “What?” Sirius asked. “Don’t you think you’ve cast enough Dark magic tonight?”

            “Sirius, Voldemort teleported us here. He _wants_ us to be here!” he exclaimed, both fearful and agitated. “What do you think he’ll do to us? You- he might kill you right away, but me? Never!” He laughed bitterly. “My head is far too precious a trophy. And Potter? I don’t want to contemplate what will be the manner of his death- assuming the Dark Lord even lets him die.”

            Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Why do both you and Dumbledore think Voldemort is so keen to get you, Severus? I know you were a spy against him, but that doesn’t quite explain it? Why? What did you reveal?”

            “A little gem of information I never realized would have such repercussions,” Severus said in a low tone. “Don’t press me for more.”

            “Severus-”

            “ _Don’t!_ ” he snapped. “We’ve wasted enough time- let’s get out of here.”

            Severus turned on his heel and led the way, down a dilapidated and crumbling stairwell. At the bottom was a long, narrow hall only lit by whatever moonlight penetrated the cracks in the mortar.

            “ _Lumos!_ ” the trio cast almost in unison.

            The spell revealed little. The corridor was nondescript, made of gray stone with rusting iron torch holders spaced a few paces apart. It extended only in one direction, forward into darkness, with no apparent doorways or adjacent halls.

            “Do you suppose this is a castle?” Sirius asked. “Voldemort’s stronghold?”

            Severus shook his head. “Castle, yes, but not a stronghold. The Dark Lord preferred his fortresses in much better condition.”

            He shrugged. “Well, you would know.”

            Severus gave him a wrathful scowl and stalked down the corridor; Harry and Sirius scurried a few steps behind. After fifteen minutes, the hallway took a bend into another identical to the first in every respect, including the absence of other passages.

            “I don’t like this,” Severus murmured. “We’re being forced to follow a particular path and we haven’t encountered any traps or obstacles. Voldemort is trying to herd us somewhere. Harry, does your scar still hurt?”

            “It’s fading,” he replied.

            “Let us know if gets any worse.”

            The corridor led into a chamber which was almost pitch dark. Cautiously, they stepped into the room. The glow of the three _Lumos-_ spells illuminated only half of the empty space, enough for Sirius to estimate its size approximately equal to the Gryffindor common room. As they edged in further, he could see that it contained a single object, a large gilded mirror with writing around the top. It said: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

            “The Mirror of Erised!” Harry exclaimed and darted towards it before Sirius could stop him. He pressed his fingertips against the glass. “Mum…” he whispered.

            Sirius and Severus glanced askance at each other in shock.

            “What is that doing here?” Severus mused. “I thought Dumbledore…?”

            “Could there be more than one?”

            “Could Voldemort have stolen it?”

            They cast their questions aside and bravely stepped towards the mirror.

            Sirius peered into the glass. He saw himself, not in the forefront, but in the background, sitting in the first row of pews in a small chapel. Severus was next to him with- for once- a broad and happy grin which mirrored his own. Before them was a woman in a long, lavish white gown, her face hidden behind the gauzy folds of a veil. Standing next to her, clasping her hands with an expression of pure joy and love was James Potter.

            No, no it wasn’t James. James’s eyes were not green, nor did he have a lightning bolt scar across his forehead…

            _Harry’s wedding_ , he realized. _I’m seeing Harry’s wedding._

            “Severus!” he exclaimed, breathlessly delighted, “what do you-”

            He turned and found no similar look of pleasure across the Potion Master’s features. Instead, Severus was quivering as if he had just seen a dementor.

            Fear shuddered through Sirius. He placed a hand upon his shoulder, “Severus, what-”

            Severus trembled, then stepped back, brushing him away. “No. No… I don’t understand… I don’t want that anymore…”

            “Severus…”

            Severus closed his eyes. “Can we leave?” he pleaded. “Can we just leave?”

            Sirius glanced back at Harry. Entranced by the mirror, he had not noticed their exchange.

            “Harry,” he asked, “are you ready to go?”

            Harry turned around with a look of both melancholy and understanding upon his face. “Yes,” he replied softly.

            There was only one doorway from the chamber, which they took. Sirius lead, gently squeezing the hand of Severus as they walked. The length of the third corridor was considerable, with several twists and turns but no branches. Finally, the passage ended at the wreck of a courtyard.

            The courtyard was completely open to the sky and well illuminated by the moon. Its perimeter was marked by columns, most of which had either toppled over or broken in two. Cracks ran through the marble tiling like spider webs. Arranged in a semicircle near the center were eleven large, upside-down gray urns. Resting on each was an ornate stone basin whose top was enclosed by a dome of glass. All were empty, except for the one in the middle, which was filled with a strange pink liquid that bubbled up into two streaming jets under the glass like a fountain.

            “Oh my God,” Severus said in disbelief.

            “What?” Sirius asked. “What are those?”

            “They’re…” He shook his head. “I don’t believe it. They’re Aphrodiluses!”

            Sirius took a sharp intake of breath as he continued to explain, “Only the one in the middle is active- the others won’t be until the potion is added.”

            Harry gave Severus an odd look. “Why would Voldemort want people to fall in love?”

            “He wouldn’t,” Severus replied. “Aphrodiluses don’t produce love, just attraction and obsession. These are probably set up to bring together people who hate each other.”

            “So they kill each other in a passionate rage,” clarified Sirius.

            “Exactly.”

            “That’s really sick. Can you tell who these are for?”

            He nodded. “See the scribbles on the side? That’s the Dark Script- the written form of the Dark Tongue.”

            “Which I suppose you are fluent in.”

            Severus gave him a nasty look. “As a matter of fact, I am, thank you very much!” he snapped, then approached the first of the eleven. “Albus Dumbledore and…” he read aloud, then rotated the basin. Suddenly, he violently shoved it off the urn. The stone and glass shattered. “Oh, that’s disgusting!” he exclaimed.

            Sirius winced. “Who was it?”

            “You _don’t_ want to know!”

            Severus turned to the next. “Sméagol and Samwise Gamgee? I don’t recognize those names,” he said, and threw it to the ground.

            Severus walked around the semicircle, first systematically smashing the five Aphrodiluses on the right, then ignoring the active one in the center, approached those on left. He paused before the seventh and asked, “Harry? I think you might want to do the honors for this one.”

            Harry, puzzled, walked over to Severus. “Why?”

            Severus pointed to the left of the Aphrodilus. “Harry Potter,” he read. Then he turned to the right. “Draco Malfoy.”

            The Aphrodilus was soon another pile of rubble upon the ground.

            Severus smashed the eighth, ninth, and tenth. As Sirius approached to assist him with the last, he extended his arms and commanded sharply, “DON’T!”

            Sirius and Harry froze.

            “Don’t,” he repeated. “This Aphrodilus is active. If you break it, it will kill whomever it is meant for.”

            “And who is it meant for?” Sirius inquired.

            Severus knelt to study the letters on the basin. Suddenly, he stood up, rigid and trembling greater than he had before the Mirror of Erised. His mouth opened as if to gasp, but the sound never left him. It died in his throat. His eyes had gone blank and bleak.

            Sirius’s heart lurched. “Severus?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. “Whose names…”

            Severus’s croak was a sound more tortured than all of Pettigrew’s screams combined.

            “Ours.”


	20. The Reconversion of Severus Snape

            “It makes sense,” Severus continued in a dull, toneless voice disembodied from his soul. “That’s why you found Pettigrew cutting my hair. Not for Polyjuice- for _this_. The Aphrodilus’s potion lasts only six months and a little less than six months ago was October. A little less than six months ago…” he stopped and for a moment it seemed he would not be able to continue. “…we kissed.”

            Sirius tried to place his hand on Severus’s shoulder, but he stepped away, lost to his own dark musings. He began muttering snatches of thoughts Sirius did not understand. “That’s what Lucius meant… Draco got the first ones… and they were going to break it in May… This was all Voldemort’s plot to get us to kill each other!”

            Suddenly, he darted forward and grabbed Sirius by the collar, shouting maniacally, “I was right from the start! It was a spell! We don’t love each other at all!” He took a gasp of air that suspiciously sounded like a dry sob. “Not a single thing we feel is real!”

            Sirius clenched Severus’s wrist and wrenched his hand away from his neck. “Get a hold of yourself!”

            “But Sirius,” he whispered. “All those trysts, all those confessions, the notes, the promises …they were nothing.”

            “They were not _nothing!_ ” Sirius declared furiously. “Even if what we felt was brought on by this thing, we still felt it! Even after it is destroyed, you and I-”

            “There won’t be a ‘you and I’!” Severus cried. “Do you understand how an Aphrodilus works? If it’s destroyed, or if the potion runs out, all the emotions we felt as a result of it will be reversed. We’ll _HATE_ each other again! We’ll become the same Snape and Black we were six months ago and who we are now will die! And they should die!” he screamed. “THEY ARE NOT REAL!”

            Severus spun around wildly and shouted into the sky, “VOLDEMORT! Come here! Come to me, you son of a-”

            Sirius slapped him. “What are you doing?!” he demanded. “What would you do if the Dark Lord did-”

            “Ahhhhh…”

            Sirius whirled around at the cry. Harry knelt on the ground clutching his forehead. His left sleeve was still rolled up and the Mark on his arm blazed so furious a black it seemed to be made of fire. Malicious, disembodied laughter rippled through the air.

            “YOU FOOL!” Sirius bellowed, enraged. “What have you-”

            “Nothing more than called upon the inevitable!” Severus declared. “I will save you- myself in exchange for you.”

            “I’ll never let you-”

            “Then YOU are the fool!” he snapped. “In a few weeks, the Aphrodilus will run out and you’ll be GLAD I’m dead!”

            Sirius began to protest, but his voice was lost to four chilling gusts that blew into the courtyard from each of the cardinal directions. The winds met in the center, behind the eleventh Aphrodilus, and formed a column. They swirled around faster and faster, until their roar became deafening. A gray blur materialized and sharpened into a horrid, twisted parody of a man.

            The figure was taller than any natural human who was not half-giant. His skin, stretched thinly over his skeletal frame, was paler than a ghost’s. His fingers were spindly, as if his hands were really spiders; his nose was so flat it was virtually nonexistent. Most disturbing were his eyes, slit like a cat’s and blazing the deep, passionate red of hatred.

            “Oh my God,” Severus whispered in horror at what he had conjured.

            “I am here,” Lord Voldemort rasped. “And I am amused.”

            He laughed- his cackle was sharp enough to crack stone. He raised his wand and, aiming at Harry, cried, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

            Harry’s wand flew out of his hand and across the room to Voldemort. As the Dark Lord turned to Severus and again shouted the spell, Sirius hastily shoved his wand into his pocket. Voldemort did not seem to notice.

            “Severus Snape!” Voldemort called. “Come to me!”

            Severus turned and looked deep into Sirius’s eyes. The full spectrum of emotion blurred in his pupils.

            “I have to go,” he whispered.

            “Severus, no!” Sirius hissed. “You can’t-”

            He tried to grab his wrist, but Severus agilely slipped past him and approached the Dark Lord. He kept his face to the ground and said nothing. He looked as if shamed, but Sirius knew it was terror that averted his gaze.

            “It’s a been long time since we last spoke, Severus,” Voldemort said. “Though I see from your treatment of Wormtail, you have not forgotten all I taught you.”

            Severus shivered, but said nothing.

            He continued, “Your clever mind has perceived my purpose. As little Potter knows, I could not touch you while you were at Hogwarts. Your Aphrodilus was indeed devised to make you passionately obsessed with your most hated enemy, a dark obsession, which could only lead to a violent end for you both. Yet something- that damnable Dumbledore I suspect- must have interfered, because your Aphrodilus produced in you the semblance of love! Why that is,” he declared, “I do not know, but it no longer matters. I have you now to dispose of personally.”

            Severus trembled. “Take me then,” he pronounced bravely, but his voice quivered. “Do what you will with me- just let Sirius and the boy go.”

            “Fool!” Voldemort snarled. “ _Repellaria!_ ”

            Severus screamed, not from pain but panic, as his body went flying through the air. Sirius ran to catch him, but Severus instead crashed into him, knocking them both to the floor.

            “Did you really think I would let Potter go!” Voldemort boomed. “Why would I destroy the revenge you have made all the more sweet? How ironic he should be the first to discover the strange effects of Polyjuice upon the Dark Mark.” He aimed his wand. “ _Morsmordi!_ ”

            Harry’s hand flew to his left arm. He gasped and bit his lip, determined not to scream.

            “What a shame fate threw the boy against me as an enemy,” mused Voldemort, as Severus and Sirius rose to their feet. “With proper instruction, he could have become useful to me… I do wonder, what sort of Death Eater would he make?”

            As Voldemort raised his wand, Sirius realized the question had not been idle. “ _Imp_ -”

            “No!” Severus screamed. He darted across the room and threw himself at Harry.

            “- _erio!_ ” Voldemort shouted.

            The Dark Lord’s aim was true, but Harry was no longer in its path. Instead, the spell struck Severus.

 

* * *

 

            The sudden pain as Harry hit the ground jolted his mind from the almost overwhelming agony of his scar and the vicious black Mark on his arm. He was keenly aware of the moment when the Imperius Curse struck Professor Snape.

            “My faithless, worthless servant,” said Voldemort, coolly regarding Snape’s dazed and unmoving form. “Oh, but this could be fun.”

            The Dark Lord waved his hand and Snape’s body levitated into the air. Wind rushed about him, whipping at his black robes.

            “You owe Snape quite a debt, little Potter,” he said. “Fifteen years, in fact.”

            Harry rose to his feet. “What?” he whispered.

            “It was _this_ viper,” Voldemort spat, “who informed Dumbledore that I was after the Potters. It was because of _him_ that the Fidelius Charm was performed, and although I got your parents in the end, I am certain that without prior warning, things would have turned out quite differently. I am certain that Severus Snape is at the very heart of all that I suffered and of the reason THAT YOU ARE STILL ALIVE!”

            Pure shock clenched a cold fist around Harry’s heart. He scarcely knew what to think. Could the reason Snape was both so hateful and yet so protective of him go beyond the debt to his father to this? He remembered Snape’s words: _“The only thing that really matters in this is Potter. He defeated Voldemort once and he will be the one who finishes him in the end. I do believe that!”_

            For how long had he believed that? What did he see in Harry- and why?

            “ _Ennervate!_ ” Voldemort commanded.

            Snape’s eyes snapped open. They were cold, glassy and dulled, as if the flame behind them had been subdued. He held up his hand and summoned, “ _Accio wand!_ ”

            Voldemort, who held his own wand among Snape’s and Harry’s, released one of the three and it floated towards him.

            _Wandless magic!_ Harry realized with a start. Snape was that powerful?

            “Let us see what is stronger,” Voldemort crooned. “The Aphrodilus- or my Imperius Curse. Severus Snape! Kill them both- and have fun while you’re at it.”

            Snape made no acknowledgement, except to raise his wand and cry, “ _Serpensortia!_ ”

            Harry remembered the spell from his second-year, when he had witnessed Snape teach it to Draco. However, this time, the result was no mere generic black snake. Instead, a gigantic cobra shot from the end of Snape’s wand.

            Sirius suddenly roared. His godfather rushed forward, but Snape turned on him, cursing, “ _Impedimenta! Stupefy! Impedimenta! Crucio!_ ”

            Voldemort opened his mouth and spoke to the cobra in a low rasping hiss which Harry recognized as Parseltongue. “Attack,” he commanded. “Kill the boy.”

            As the cobra uncoiled its body and began to slither towards him, he cried out in the same language, “No! Turn around! The enemy is behind you!”

            The cobra hesitated. It flicked its long red tongue at Harry and slowly turned its head towards Voldemort.

            Why had Snape chosen this spell? He knew Harry was a Parselmouth. He knew he could control the snake.

            “I am your master!” the Dark Lord immediately snapped. “Turn on me and you have no chance. Attack the boy!”

            The cobra whipped back around. Its body undulated, rising to strike.

            “No!” Harry cried as forcefully as he could, but he was forced to dash aside as the cobra reared its head and struck at him.

            “ _Stupefy!_ ” he suddenly heard Snape cast again in Sirius’s direction.

            The cobra attacked again. Harry dashed across the room, almost stumbling over the remains of a shattered Aphrodilus. It followed him swiftly.

            “Leave me alone!” he shouted and was ignored as Voldemort screamed back, “ _KILL!_ ”

            As Harry dived behind one of the urns, the reasoning behind Snape’s spell became painfully clear. His ability to speak Parseltongue was a false and forlorn hope; the most he could accomplish was to scream his throat raw for he would never be able to control the cobra as well as Voldemort.

“HARRY!” he heard a sudden cry. He chanced a glance over the urn and saw Sirius raise his arm. “CATCH!” he screamed, heaving something at him.

            “ _Crucio!_ ” Voldemort and Snape shouted at Sirius in unison, but the distraction allowed Harry to jump for the object his godfather had thrown. As his hand closed around it, he realized it was his wand.

            As the cobra bared its fangs and prepared to lunge again, Harry scrambled atop the urn. He raised Sirius’s wand and shouted, “ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

            The cobra’s upper body instantly straightened, then became rigid. Its head crashed against the marble floor.

            Voldemort screamed in sudden rage. “ _Finite Incantatem!_ ” he snapped, clenching his fingers. “ _Enervate!_ ”

            As Harry’s mind raced to think of another curse, Snape suddenly screamed, “ _Morsmordi!_ ”

            Fire flared in both his left arm and already-throbbing scar. The wand slipped from Harry’s grasp. His elbow and then his shoulder crashed against the marble as he toppled from the urn. The sensation did not even register with his nerves; the pain of a bone bruise was nothing to the ignited agony on his forehead.

            Moaning, he opened his eyes and roughly rolled away as the cobra’s fang struck dangerously close to his leg. Pushing off with his palm, he sprung to his feet.

            “ _Morsmordi!_ ” Snape screamed.

            The volume of his cry seemed to amplify the spell. It almost brought Harry to his knees, but he knew too keenly that he could not afford to stumble, for the serpent had coiled its body in anticipation of the kill.

            _I’ve got to run. I’ve got to find Sirius’s wand-_

            “ _Morsmordi!_ ”

            Harry almost screamed. He clamped his teeth over his bottom lip. He did not care if he chewed through his own skin; he would _not_ give Voldemort that satisfaction.

            _I’ve got to run, got to-_

“ _Morsmordi!_ ”

He was going to die. There was nothing he could do. The pain could only be worse if Snape cast the Cruciatus Curse. His brain was on a fire that mirrored the agony in his forehead and arm. He dashed about the room blindly, feeling like a mouse in a cage as the cobra lunged for him again and again.

            He would not cry out. Voldemort might have the triumph of his death, but he would not let him savor any scream.

            Yet each time Harry thought he had reached his threshold for pain, beyond which anything would be numb, Professor Snape cried out the cursed word.

            “ _Morsmordi! Morsmordi! MORSMORDI!”_

 

* * *

 

            Sirius raised slowly his head, gritting his teeth and valiantly ignoring the pain spasming through his body. How many Cruciatus Curses could a person live through?

            Severus was not looking at him this time. He had suddenly forgotten Sirius’s existence. All his attention was focused with hatred and spite at Harry.

            No, that was wrong. Sirius knew Severus did not truly feel those things anymore. The expression on his face was merely that of determination, brought only solely by the Imperius Curse. Severus’s consciousness was no longer in control and what Sirius looked upon was a mindless puppet of Voldemort’s.

            And yet to save Harry, to destroy that puppet, would be the end of Severus.

            _Does it matter?_ Sirius asked. _I cannot do anything. My wand-_

            With a start, he suddenly realized that his wand lay only inches from his grasp. Some miracle had guided Harry’s foot to kick it towards him after he had dropped it.

            He glanced up again. Voldemort’s eyes were concentrated upon the cobra and he was hissing in a foul language that Sirius knew had to be Parseltongue. Severus was following Harry with his wand, continually screaming, “ _Morsmordi!_ ”

            Sirius crawled forward on his belly. His fingertips tapped against his wand. He stretched his arm another inch, placing it within his grasp. Deliberately, he rose. Neither the Dark Lord nor his recently reconverted Death Eater noticed.

            _“I know how their minds work,”_ Severus had said. _“They’ll try and put you in a position where you have to choose and if they do…”_

            He had never felt so torn. He knew what he had to do. He knew whom he had to save. Yet, even though it was the choice Severus had affirmed, it was no less heart wrenching.

            _“Choose Harry. You better choose Harry or I’ll kill you.”_

            “ _Morsmordi!_ ” Severus cried, and this time, Harry screamed.

            Voldemort raised his wand to the serpent. “ _Finite Incantatem!_ ” he called and the cobra disappeared. “Enough games,” he said. “Finish him off, Severus.”

            Harry was doubled over in agony. His breath was ragged from pain and Sirius realized his godson was not even aware of his impending death.

            A foul curse came to Sirius’s mind, one he had learned during his quest to become an Animagus. It was classified on the same level as the three Unforgivables and was irreversible: the power to force a permanent animal transformation upon another.

            As Sirius raised his wand, the only animal he could think of was a serpent. With sad and bitter irony, he realized how appropriate a creature it was for Severus to become.

            _Forgive me_ , he thought fervently. He felt tears in his eyes. _I have no choice. I’ll take care of you, Severus, no matter what form you are. Forgive me…_

            “ _Animalus-_ ” he began just as Severus shouted, “ _Avada-_ ”

            In that split-second, Sirius realized that even if his spell reached Severus, it would be too late to spare Harry. Filled with a bright, burning fury, he shifted his aim to Voldemort. “­ _-Serpenta!_ ”

            At the same instant, Severus spun upon his heel. “ _-Kedavra!_ ” he screamed at the Dark Lord.

            As half-life and death both zoomed towards him, Voldemort raised his two hands and, with wand in each, crossed them, and called out, “ _Crucio! Crucio!_ ”

            The spells collided… and in two bursts of brilliance disappeared. Beams of golden light extended from all four wands, connecting Sirius’s and Severus’s to those which Voldemort held.

            It was Priori Incantatem times two!


	21. The Binding

            _Impossible!_ thought Severus, now completely free of the Imperius Curse. _How can this be happening? It is Sirius and I who have brother wands-_

            Then realization struck.

            “Potter’s wand!” he screamed, enraged. “You gave me Harry Potter’s wand!”

            “Of course, I did!” Voldemort declared maliciously. “I knew you might break the curse and turn on me- not through the strength of your own character, of course, but that of your Aphrodilus!”

            Severus felt sick. In his hand, Potter’s wand vibrated painfully. From the center, where the two threads of gold crossed, beams began to shoot off in all directions, enclosing them in a radiant cage. A strange melody, ethereal with tragic beauty- a phoenix’s song, Fawkes’s song- overwhelmed his senses; beneath it, he thought he could hear the muffled sound of a dragon’s roar.

            “The beads!” Potter cried from somewhere in the distance. “Force the beads back!”

            Severus looked at the aureate strings. Traveling along each were large spheres of light, sliding towards Sirius’s wand, towards Potter’s own in his hand, which began to throb as intensely as the Mark on his arm…

            _Stop_ , he ordered it. _Stop, go back._

            Gritting his teeth and placing his other hand upon the wand, he squeezed it in a death grip and devoted his brain to forming a clear, precise mental image of the beads sliding away from him, towards Voldemort, until the ghosts of spells screamed from his wand. The Dark Mark flared in protest at his rebellion. The nearest of the beads hesitated in its place, then continued towards him.

            _Stop!_ he snapped, feeling desperate as the sphere approached the intersection of the two main threads of light. The wand was not his. It would not obey him; it would shatter into fragments of wood and phoenix fire…

            The bead met in the middle with another, the product of a dragon’s pure heart, a Priori Incantatem firmly controlled by Sirius. Neither would budge; the other beads from both connections bunched behind them. Voldemort roared in fury but could do nothing; Severus’s wand was just as unresponsive to him as Potter’s was to the Potions Master. The beads continued to grind against each other and then _into_ each other. One by one, they combined, forming a single ball of blinding light that began to hum-

            Voldemort whipped both wands in his hands upwards. The threads snapped, the cage disappeared, and Sirius and Severus were blasted backwards by the sudden surge of magic. Potter’s wand flew from his hand and he landed on his back with a thud. Stars filled his eyes; when they cleared, Lord Voldemort towered above him, with his wand aimed at his throat.

            “ _Avada-_ ” he began, then stopped. “No. I think you deserve to die last.” Severus slowly rolled onto his knees, as Voldemort continued. “I’ll let you choose who goes first, Snape: your ward or your lover.”

            Severus turned and looked deeply into Sirius’s eyes. He knew what he was thinking; he could almost hear him say, _Me. Choose me, so that Harry has at least a chance to escape._

            He had never before loved Sirius so deeply and so fiercely as he did in that instant and his heart shattered for it. None of what he felt was real. It was all the Aphrodilus. It was all illusion, and it was better this way, because he no longer wanted to live.

            _Better for me- but for them?_

            “Wait…” he pleaded desperately. “Oh, please wait, please, Ma-” He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to spit out the vile word. “Master.”

            Voldemort sneered. “You pathetic little worm! Do you really think you can move me?”

            There had to be something, something he could say, but…

            It rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself. “But I know the location of the Philosopher’s Stone!”

            “What game are you trying to play?” Voldemort demanded contemptuously. “The Stone was destroyed four years ago by Albus Dumbledore.”

            “No, it wasn’t!” Severus exclaimed earnestly. “You only think that because he hid it again with the Fidelius Charm.”

            “And how would you know this?”

            Severus took a deep breath. He was quivering. He could scarcely believe his own words. “Because I am its Secret-Keeper. I was your servant- I’m the last person anyone would think of. That’s why Dumbledore chose me- the same reason the Potters chose Pettigrew.”

            “And I suppose,” said Voldemort coolly, “you offer this knowledge in exchange for their lives?”

            Severus bowed his head. “I ask for a year. If you will bind yourself not to harm either Black or Potter for a year, I will bind myself to tell you the location of the Philosopher’s Stone.”

            “Severus, _no!_ ” Sirius suddenly cried. “He’ll be immortal! It’s not worth it!”

            Severus trembled greater than before. “Do what you will with me afterwards, Master. I don’t care. Just let them go.”

            “I shall kill you then…”

            He shook his head forlornly. “I don’t care. I want to die.”

            “Then that mercy, far too good for you, will be your reward.”

 

* * *

 

            “Severus, _NO!_ ” Sirius screamed again.

            Panic rushed through his veins. _I’m not worth it. Severus, I’m not worth it. I don’t know if Harry’s worth it!_

            “I agree!” Voldemort announced. “They shall have their year. A year is nothing to what _I_ shall have. Stand up, Snape, if there is any spine left in you to do so!”

            Dutifully, Severus rose to his feet. Voldemort held up his spider-like hand and he clasped it. A strange silver light emanated from their palms. Together, they began to chant in a tongue Sirius did not understand, the same language as written on the Aphrodilus. The glow between their hands flared into a bright blinding flash. A silver aura enveloped them and remained even as they released each other and stepped away.

            “Your loved ones are safe until this time next year,” Voldemort affirmed. “Now, reveal the location of the Philosopher’s Stone.”

            Severus took a deep breath. “The Stone is-”

            “Severus, you CAN’T!” Sirius screamed.

            Severus turned and gave a sorrowful look to Sirius. “I must… I am bound.”

            Voldemort smiled and rubbed his fingers together expectantly.

            “The Philosopher’s Stone…” Severus began. Then suddenly his lips curved into a foul sneer, “…is nowhere, you fool!”

            The silver light suddenly left Severus as Voldemort’s smirk went flat and his eyes wide with rage. “WHAT?!”

            “I lied!” Severus declared. “Dumbledore did destroy the Stone- but I only bound myself to tell you the location, not the truth of that! And I have! Nowhere, Voldemort! NOWHERE!”

            Voldemort’s next breath was a hiss. “You have earned yourself a slow death! _Crucio!_ ”

            Severus fell at Voldemort’s feet. His body writhed in pain.

            “ _Crucio!_ ”

            “Severus!” Sirius cried, rising to his feet.

            “ _Crucio!_ ”

            “Sirius, get out of here!” Severus yelled.

            “ _Crucio!_ ”

            Sirius dashed to his wand and snatched it off the ground.

            “ _Crucio!_ ”

            “Sirius, did you here me?!” Severus screamed. “GO!”

            _“Crucio!_ ”

            Severus was curled into a tight ball. He raised his head only to scream, “SIRIUS, LEAVE ME! I WANT TO DIE!”

            Sirius ran forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry take up his wand and follow.

            “ _Cru-_ ”

            Sirius and Harry darted directly between Severus and Voldemort.

            “ _-cio!_ ” Voldemort finished.

            The blast never hit them. The silver light still emanating from Voldemort suddenly flared and snuffed out the sparks of his wand.

            “Out of my way!” the Dark Lord commanded. “ _Avada-_ ”

            His wand responded with a small puff of smoke. Voldemort’s eyes widened.

            “You can’t hurt us,” Harry ventured boldly. “You bound yourself not to.”

            “Yes,” Sirius added, “but we can hurt _you_!”

            No thought was necessary. They both lunged at Voldemort. The Dark Lord cried in surprise as he was knocked to the ground. As Sirius’s hand began to close around his wrist, Voldemort uttered a single, foul syllable of the Dark Tongue- then vanished.


	22. Severus Decides

            “Severus.” Sirius rushed to kneel beside his hunched form. “Severus, you’re safe. It’s alright.”

            Severus slowly uncoiled his arms from around his body, then raised his head. Sirius saw no clear emotion in his eyes, only pain. He raised his hand to stroke his cheek. Severus gave a start and pushed it aside.

            “Don’t. Please don’t.”

            He offered Severus his arm, which he accepted, leaning against it to rise. Sirius embraced him, but he did not respond. His body stood rigid and Sirius stepped away. Before he could say anything else, Harry approached Severus.

            “Your wand, Professor Snape,” he said, holding the thin wooden rod out to him.

            Severus accepted it. “Thank you, Harry.”

            “Professor…” Harry began, “When you were unconscious, Voldemort said that you were the one who told Dumbledore he was after my parents.”

            Severus hesitated, then brushed the matter aside casually. “Oh. Well… I wasn’t sure if he knew that.”

            _Liar_ , Sirius thought sadly. _You knew all along that’s why Voldemort’s after you._

            “Well…” Harry was at first awkward, but then spoke genuinely. “Thank you.”

            Severus scowled. “Don’t. I was only doing my job. It had nothing to do with you.” He added with a note of bitterness, “I was only saving my own neck from Azkaban.”

            Harry responded with a sad smile. Sirius knew that nothing of what Severus had said, even if he had meant it, devalued his deed in his godson’s eyes.

            After a few moments, Sirius cleared his throat and spoke, “Severus, about the-”

            He cut him off. “No, not here. Let’s… We need to take it to Dumbledore.” He aimed his wand at the Aphrodilus. “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

            Despite its weight, the strange fountain rose into the air and floated to him.

            “Gather around me,” he commanded. Sirius and Harry stepped beside him. He raised his wand into the air and uttered a single word- the same as had been Voldemort’s last- and the world snuffed out like smoke.

 

* * *

 

            When Harry rematerialized, he was once again in the open field from which Voldemort had snatched him. All traces of Pettigrew, save the tufts of grass he had uprooted while writhing under the power of Snape’s curses, were gone and his Firebolt lay discarded on the ground. Snape and Sirius were still at his side; the Aphrodilus remained hovering in mid-air.

            Snape was the first to speak. “Sirius, change and pass through the forest,” he ordered brusquely. “I will keep the Aphrodilus floating while I ride on the Firebolt with Potter.”

            “You’re taking this very calmly,” Sirius remarked with a hollow note in his voice.

            “What do you want me to do!” he snapped. “Break down and cry?”

            “Why are you being so hostile?”

            “If you don’t know…” Snape began angrily, then stopped. Something in his eyes looked broken. He finished quietly, “It’s been a long night.”

            Sirius bit his lip.  He seemed to wish to say something, but instead, he changed into his canine form, leaving Harry and Snape alone in the open field. Snape watched him depart with a blank stare.

            “Professor…” Harry began timidly. He did not know what to say and even if he did, he was not certain he would want to do so. Snape would probably curse him or- even worse and completely unimaginable- cry.

            “Well then, let’s go,” said Snape sharply. “I’ll be turned around so I can keep the fountain levitated.”

            Harry nodded and reached towards the Firebolt. “Up,” he commanded and it rose into the air. He positioned himself on the broomstick, giving Snape enough room to sit.

            “Ready?” he asked.

            “Yes,” Snape answered from behind. “Don’t go to fast. If I lose contact and this falls…”

            Snape’s back was pressed against Harry’s and he felt him shudder.

            Slowly, Harry guided his broomstick to rise above the trees. “Is this pace good?” he asked halfway up.

            “Mm-hmm,” was all Snape mumbled.

            Slowly, they flew above the forest. Harry periodically glanced over his shoulder to ascertain that the Aphrodilus was still there. If it broke, it would mean death for both Snape and Sirius. Snape must be incredibly confident in his levitating charm to suggest such a method of transporting.

            Harry was not reassured at all. His scar still hurt, the mark on his arm was a raw burn, and now that the reality of what the Aphrodilus meant had finally set in, he felt like he had been punched in the stomach.

            He had been right about Snape and Sirius from the very start. Never before had he wished so fervently that fate had proven him wrong.

 

* * *

 

            Outside the castle, Severus touched the Slytherin quadrant of the Hogwarts emblem upon the doors and muttered a password. Instantly, they opened inward and the trio entered with the fountain floating beside them. They encountered no one; the ghosts were at other haunts and the portraits were asleep in nightgowns and caps.

            As they approached Dumbledore’s gargoyle, Severus heard a gasp and the figure of Minerva McGonagall, still dressed in her green robes, rushed at him.

            “Where have you and Harry been?” she asked. “Dumbledore instructed me not to tell anyone until morning that the boy was missing…”

            “Yes, another hunch of his, I suppose?” Severus asked bitterly.

            “What happened? You look so pale. Should I get Poppy-?”

            “No,” he interrupted hastily. “We need to see Dumbledore right _now_.”

            McGonagall nodded. “He’s awake. You can proceed.”

 

* * *

 

            Outside the office, Sirius reverted to a human. He glanced at Severus, who immediately turned away.

            “Severus,” he pleaded. “Please, tell me what you’re feeling…”

            He did not answer. He simply opened the door.

            Inside, Dumbledore stood with four empty chairs waiting. His face was painted with anxiety, which began to fade into relief, but before he could speak, Severus guided the Aphrodilus to land roughly on his desk with a thud.

            “There!” he snapped.

            For several minutes, Dumbledore said nothing. He simply stared at the Aphrodilus, absolutely stunned. Then, quietly, he said, “I’m sorry.”

            “That’s not good enough.”

            “I know,” he said, bowing his head.

            Severus was trembling, but Sirius was not certain if it was in anger. “Why didn’t you think it was Dark magic? Whatever made you _not_ believe it was Dark magic?”

            “Severus!” Sirius protested.

            Dumbledore raised his hand. “No, Sirius, let him. I had my reasons for believing otherwise. I see I was wrong. I… I have never been such a fool.”

             Such words from the mouth of Albus Dumbledore were like a cold wind on the back of Sirius’s neck. They were the most frightening thing he could conceive.

            Dumbledore continued, “I will perform the necessary countercharms to destroy this without hurting either of you. It is the least- and I fear the most- I can do. I… I cannot express my regret. I should have seen to spare you this.”

            Severus was not nearly pacified, but he said nothing.

            “Please,” gestured Dumbledore, “sit. All three of you must have been though a lot.”

            Sirius nodded as they each took a seat. “The equivalent of ten Cruciatus Curses apiece and then some.”

            “Sirius,” a small voice whispered in his ear. He glanced at Harry, who pointing at his left arm and shaking his head, mouthed “no.” Sirius nodded in silent ascent. Neither would speak a word of the Dark Mark and jeopardize Severus’s position.

            “Begin wherever you are comfortable,” Dumbledore offered. “We’ll start there and get the whole story out somehow.”

            Sirius looked to his other side. “Severus?”

            Severus ignored him. He simply sat staring at his hands, which were folded in his lap.

            “Harry decided to stay with us after the Quidditch match,” Sirius volunteered. “We went to sleep and a few hours later… I woke up and found Pettigrew cutting Severus’s hair.”

            Sirius hated to lie to Dumbledore, but he had to select the details he revealed carefully. He said nothing of attempting the Killing Curse, nor of Severus chanting the Dark Tongue, but the moment he mentioned the spell which had forced Pettigrew into human form, Dumbledore knew.

            “The Dark Arts, Severus?” he remarked sternly.

            Severus looked briefly into his eyes, but said nothing.

            Next, Sirius spoke of the teleport spell cast by Voldemort, their arrival at the dilapidated castle, and the Mirror of Erised. Here in his narrative he stopped and asked, “How did Voldemort get the mirror? I thought you had it.”

            Dumbledore gave a troubled frown. “I did, but I turned it over to the Ministry of Magic shortly after the death of Professor Quirrell.”

            There was a pause, then Severus suggested, “Perhaps you should talk to Minister Fudge. Perhaps you should do a little more than talk.”

            “Severus, I’d much appreciate it if you refrained from reading my mind,” answered Dumbledore. “Please, Sirius, continue.”

            “No, I will continued,” Severus suddenly insisted. “We followed the corridor into another chamber, a courtyard. It- it held eleven Aphrodiluses. Only one- that one-” he gestured “-was active.”

            “There were others? Who were they for?”

            “I didn’t recognize most of the names,” he said. “There was one for you and one for Potter, and one for, well, of course.”

            He lapsed back into silence, forcing Sirius to take up the thread of the story. “We smashed the other ten Aphrodiluses. Then Voldemort appeared.”

            Again, he was selective and brief. He mentioned the use of the Imperius Curse, the screaming match in Parseltongue, but spoke nothing of the Dark Mark. Dumbledore was impressed by the double Priori Incantatem and Severus’s bluff.

            “Yes, I do recall making that offer to you, Severus,” he remarked. “Though before, not after, Quirrell sought the stone.”

            “So, you understand now why I refused,” Severus replied.

            “No. I would still trust you with the secret.”

            For several moments, the room was silent. Then Severus confessed, “I used the Dark Arts to teleport us home. I didn’t think another spell would hurt.”

            “Severus,” Dumbledore warned, “if it becomes a habit-”

            “It won’t. I know the price.”

            “You two should return to your cabin. You need to rest and, after that, you two need to discuss your future,” he instructed. “I afraid things will not be the same.”

            Sirius rose, apprehensively requesting, “So, it’s true then. Once the Aphrodilus is gone… we’ll… will we really hate…?”

            Dumbledore bowed his head. “Try to remember what you feel right now, Sirius. Try to remember… and in the future, try to get along.”

            It was all the confirmation he needed.

            “I’m sorry,” the headmaster repeated.

            He only nodded, then tapped Severus on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said dully.

            Severus glared. “Aren’t you going to tell Albus why Harry was at our home?” he coldly demanded.

            Both Sirius and Harry gave a start.

            “But-” Sirius began to protest.

            “It was my scar,” Harry hastily blurted. “It started burning during the Quidditch match-”

            “Don’t lie!” Severus hissed. “Tell the headmaster the truth!”

            Harry froze and Severus lost patience. He stood up, grabbed the boy’s left arm, and shoved back his sleeve, unveiling the Dark Mark.

            Albus Dumbledore’s face became as Sirius had never before seen it: horrified. “How did this happen?”

            “It was my fault,” said Sirius. “It was my idea- not Severus’s- to give Harry the Polyjuice-”

            “Polyjuice for what?” he asked sharply.

            Sirius took a deep breath and hastily told of the February excursion into Hogsmeade. When he had concluded, Severus added, “I had no idea the Dark Mark had that effect on Polyjuice. I didn’t know until Voldemort confirmed it tonight.”

            Dumbledore said nothing, but he appeared very pensive.

            “Can you do something about it?” Harry asked. “Can you make it go away?”

            Sadly, he shook his head. “No. I am afraid that this, like your scar, you will bear for the rest of your life. But for you, Harry, this is not a mark of what you are or what you were. It is what you must overcome- and what you must not become.”

He continued, “It buys us another year of time. Voldemort bound himself not to harm you, and as activating the Mark would cause you pain, he will not be able to conduct a mass summons.”

            He turned to Severus. “I’m not going to punish you. You have been through enough.”

            “Headmaster-” Severus protested.

            “Yes?”

            “Headmaster,” he said, “tonight I cast two of the Unforgivable Curses. I spoke in the Dark Tongue. I performed spells of the Dark Arts. Weeks before this, I illegally used Polyjuice and invoked the Dark Mark twice. I should… I should be sent to Azkaban.”

            A jolt of horror electrified Sirius.

            “No,” said Dumbledore firmly. “I will not entertain such a foolish notion.”

            “Headmaster, I insist-”

            “Severus, what you feel will pass.”

            Severus’s eyes went dull and he bowed his head.

            “Return home and get some sleep,” the headmaster instructed. “It’s been far too long a night.”

 

* * *

 

            The procession to the cabin was somber. Neither spoke; Sirius, as a dog, could not and Severus refused to communicate. Inside the cabin and human again, Sirius affectionately touched Severus’s shoulder. He shrugged his hand away.

            _Look at me!_ Sirius wanted to scream. _How can you be so cold? I love you! I love you!_

            At the stairwell, they paused. Sirius began, “Should I…?”

            Severus shook his head. “No. I think we should each sleep alone tonight.”

            “I understand.” He really did- and that made it worse.

            _I love you. How can you tell me this isn’t real? I love you._

“Well then… goodnight,” said Severus.

            “Goodnight,” he answered dully.

            Severus turned his back and walked up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

            Severus could not sleep. That was unusual. He knew the reason why… and that the reason why was curled up on the sofa downstairs.

            He lay in bed, physically and emotionally drained, numb and unthinking, except for one thought.

            _I want to die._

            Dawn came without note. The hours passed. Finally, Severus left his bed and crept downstairs. In the living room, Sirius was still asleep. Severus did not stop, but proceeded to the kitchen. He unlocked his ingredient cabinet and snatched a cauldron from the side of the stove. Anguish bubbled in his heart as he realized it was the one Sirius had given him for Christmas. He bowed his head a moment, then replaced the cauldron on the floor and searched for another. He found an old, dented pewter one inside a cabinet and began mixing ingredients.

            Sirius awoke sometime after noon, just as Severus finished preparing breakfast. As he entered the kitchen, he began, “Severus-”

            “No,” Severus interrupted, setting a plate of eggs at Sirius’s seat. “Yes, I know we need to talk and we will- but I think we should eat first.”

            Reluctantly, Sirius agreed. He waited for Severus to serve himself and walk over to the table before he sat. He cut his eggs, took a bite- then dropped forward into his breakfast. Severus lifted up his head, pushed away the plate, and wiped the egg from his face. He went to the bedroom, leaving Sirius snoozing on the kitchen table.

 

* * *

 

            _Wha- where am I?_ Sirius wondered as he awoke. His neck felt sore from sleeping in an awkward position quite unlike the others in which he and Severus usually found themselves entangled. With a start, he realized he was not in the bedroom, or even the living room, but the kitchen.

            He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs from his brain. He remembered something about eggs… eggs and Severus…

            _He drugged my food_ , Sirius realized. _Why would he do that?_

            He pushed his chair back and stood up. Rubbing his eyes, he entered the living room, shouting irritably, “Severus, where are you? What the hell was that for?”

            He need not have raised his voice. Severus stood by the front door. He was shrinking several large trunks, which he gingerly placed in a black suitcase.

            “Severus, what are you doing?” he asked.

            Severus did not answer.

            “Severus, you’re not-” A lump choked his throat. “Severus, don’t you think we should talk?”

            Again, he did not reply. He placed the last trunk in the suitcase.

            “GODDAMN IT!” Sirius screamed at him. “Look at me! LOOK AT ME! What are you going to do? Aren’t you going to say anything? Are you just going to walk away? DON’T YOU THINK I CARE?!”

            Severus turned, opened the door, and walked out of Sirius’s life without ever uttering a word.


	23. One Last Night

            It was a split-second decision; instead of proceeding to dinner with his classmates, Harry turned away from the stairwell leading out of the dungeons and rushed back towards the Potions lab.

            Aside from Snape’s near-miraculous tolerance of Harry- which he suspected was sympathy for the shared brand upon their arms- Potions class had reverted to pre-October standards. Gryffindor lost points if someone considered breathing; the Slytherins murdered five second-years and got away with it. Snape was snippy, sarcastic, sadistic, short-tempted, and currently taking nominations for which Gryffindor should replace Harry as his object of loathing. Ron was in the lead, with Neville and Hermione neck-in-neck just behind. His behavior gave every indication that Dumbledore had destroyed the Aphrodilus, yet one significant fact left Harry doubting.

            Sirius was miserable.

            Harry had spoken to his godfather four times in the two weeks following his fateful Quidditch match. Although he had not once mentioned Snape, Harry sensed a cloud of despair shadowing his heart, painting his movement and speech with an air of tragedy.

            _Snape has to be feeling the same thing_ , he thought. _He thought he loved Sirius- I thought he loved Sirius!_

He simply could not stand it any longer. He had to speak to Snape, if for no more than Sirius’s sake. What was the worst the Potions Master could do? Curse him? Give him a detention?

            _They can’t really go back to hating each other after everything they’ve been through… can they?_ he wondered, opening the door to Snape’s classroom.

            The hinges squeaked as he pressed upon the door. In the room beyond, he saw the Potions Master, whose back was to the entrance, give a start. One hand brushed against his face as if wiping something away, then, sneering, he turned and demanded, “What- Oh, it’s you, Potter. What do you want?”

            “I-” Harry began. Snape’s eyes were red and puffy and although his lips were curved into a snarl of loathing, the emotion in his pupils was something quite different. “I-” he started again.

            “Potter, get out!” he snapped.

            Harry bowed his head.

            “I’m sorry, Professor,” he whispered, then left.

 

* * *

 

            Sirius gazed impassively through the blinds of the cabin’s window. It was raining again; he could hear the pitter-patter of drops on the roof, a perfect accompaniment to his mood.

            Wearily, he lowered his head back to the sofa. He was exhausted despite that he had barely moved from the couch since awakening in the morning. His stomach was empty, but he felt no hunger pangs. He barely ate; he had no appetite and the kitchen had been Severus’s domain. It, like the bedroom, held too many memories.

            Dumbledore obviously had yet to destroy the Aphrodilus. Shouldn’t its potion have run out already? Voldemort must have replenished it shortly before confronting them.

            Hate was better than this. Sirius did not want to hate Severus; he still felt madly in love with him, but he had never been so miserable. Who needed a little island in the North Sea? His heart had become his own Azkaban.

            The doorbell rang. Once, twice. After the third time, Sirius roused the strength to rise from the sofa and open the door. He did not bother to check the spy-mirror. He doubted he would honestly care if whomever was behind the door happened to be Cornelius Fudge with a dozen Aurors and an army of dementors. Whatever they could offer him was better than what he had.

            Outside, a tall figure tightly wrapped in a voluminous black hooded cloak shivered on the doorstep. His robes were drenched, soaked through to the skin.

            _No_ , Sirius thought, _it couldn’t be._

            “Severus?”

            The figure nodded and pushed back his hood. Droplets of water clung to the slick strands of his hair. “May I come in?” he asked timidly.

            Sirius stepped aside, his heart fluttering painfully inside his chest. “Of course.”

            Severus entered and unclasped his cloak. Sirius removed it from his shoulders and placed it upon a peg, ignoring the puddle forming rapidly beneath it. Severus shivered again, prompting Sirius to move rapidly towards the fireplace and chant, “ _Incendio!_ ”

            A warm, orange flame appeared within the hearth. Sirius lightly touched Severus’s shoulder and was gratified when the Potions Master did not shrug him away. He guided him towards the fire, then placed his arm around him as they sat on the floor. Severus did not protest.

            “The Aphrodilus is still active,” he said.

            “I know,” Sirius replied. “I still-”

            “Don’t say it. It’s not real.”

            “Is that why you left me?” he asked.

            Severus did not answer.

            “Is that why you refused to talk?”

            “There was nothing to talk about,” he said. “Our life together was beautiful- but it was a lie. And Erised knew that.”

            “Erised?” Sirius repeated. “Severus, what did you see in the Mirror of Erised?”

            He paused. “Nothing. I saw nothing.”

            Sirius was confused. “But that’s a good thing. That means you are content- that you have everything you desire-”

            “No, you don’t understand,” he protested. “Sirius, I did not even see _myself_. What I saw… was not sight. Was not existence, was not anything. I saw oblivion. My greatest desire, the only thing I’ve truly wanted for the past fifteen years, is not to exist.”

            A strange, numb horror descended upon Sirius.

            Severus continued, “I didn’t understand. I- I thought I didn’t want that anymore. Why would I want that when there was you? Now I know. Erised saw past the effects of the Aphrodilus, saw the desire of the true me, not the me I am now. The me I will be.”

            “My God,” Sirius whispered. “How- why? Why would you not want to exist?”

            Severus’s eyes became cloudy. “Sirius, you have been through horrible things, things you would pay any price not to relive. I have more than been through horrible things. I have _done_ horrible things. It wasn’t so easy to hate the world when I was younger. It is now- because the world hates me now, because I hated it first. Why do you think I became a Death Eater?”

            “Oh, Severus…” Sirius began, embracing him.

            Severus pushed him away roughly. “Don’t!” he snapped furiously. “I don’t want any goddamn pity! Do you think I was being altruistic when I tried to sacrifice myself to Voldemort for you? I _wanted_ to die! And you and Potter ruined _everything_!”

            He jumped to his feet. “You understand nothing!” he screamed. “I hate myself, I hate the world, I hate _everything_ , and I don’t want to live! And just when I was starting to like myself and think that maybe the world isn’t such a shitty place, I find out that none of it was REAL! Once again I’m Professor bloody Snape who everybody loathes and every student hates!”

            He continued to rant, “You wanted to see my soul once, Sirius. You wanted to know my secrets. Well now you do- my secret is that I don’t have one!”

            Boldly, Sirius stood up and declared, “I don’t believe that. I still love you, Severus Snape.”

            “SHUT UP!” Severus screamed. “That’s not you talking at all! It’s just the bloody Aphrodilus!”

            “I DON’T CARE!” Sirius roared. “I FEEL IT! I LOVE YOU!”

            To his immense surprise, Severus started crying.

            “I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” he sobbed, throwing himself at Sirius, pressing his face against his chest. “I can’t live feeling like I love you, feeling like I want you, and knowing that I really don’t. I can’t stand the misery. If I have to hate everything- if I have to hate you- don’t let me think I love you. Let my mind be free- or at least caged by something I really feel. Don’t let me think I love you.”

            “One last night?” Sirius whispered. “One last night before our forever becomes never, so that we at least had a last time we knew was the last time?”

            Severus sniffled. “One last night,” he said.

 

* * *

 

            It was long, and slow, and beautiful, and Sirius would have been content for eternity had it lasted forever. But the morning came too soon.

 

* * *

 

            When they awoke, they did not speak. They did not stop to have breakfast. They simply got dressed and went directly to Albus Dumbledore’s office.

            Severus spoke first. “Headmaster, when will you be able to destroy the Aphrodilus?”

            “Is there something you can do… some sort of spell…” Sirius began, “that in the meantime…”

            Dumbledore looked puzzled. “Why? Do you still feel an attraction?”

            “Well, of course!” Severus answered a bit impatiently.

            “But, Severus, I destroyed the Aphrodilus two days after you gave it to me.”

            There was pause.

            “What?” Severus asked flatly, then screamed, “WHAT?!”

            A broad smile spread across Dumbledore’s face. “So, I was right,” he said softly. “I was right, after all.”

            “I- I don’t understand,” Sirius stammered. “Weren’t all the emotions we felt as a result of the Aphrodilus supposed to be reversed?”

            Dumbledore grinned. “Emotions _granted_ and _generated_ by the Aphrodilus, yes. But as a result in other ways…”

            Severus narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

            “The reason I did not originally believe your love was a result of the Dark Arts is that I always suspected the two of you were secretly attracted to each other,” Dumbledore began. “Emotions often form strange cycles. Your attraction was repressed by your hatred, and that repression in turn fueled your hatred. So, in your case, the Aphrodilus did not _create_ attraction. It merely allowed what already existed to come to the surface and then helped you a little along the way. The rest,” he pronounced with a mischievous twinkle, “was entirely yourselves.”

            Sirius stood dumbstruck.

            “No way,” said Severus. “There is positively no _way_ that I-”

            “Repressed attraction?” Sirius queried. “What made you suspect…”

            “There were many signs,” said Dumbledore. “The first was the way you glared at Severus after he was Sorted into Slytherin.”

            “Sorted?” he repeated flatly. “ _Sorted?!_ But that was when we were-”

            Severus went ballistic. “You perverted little first-year!” he screeched.

            “Hey, apparently it was mutual!” Sirius protested.

            Suddenly, they were nose to nose, glaring at each other.

            “Grimy, goblin-faced Gryffindor worm-”

            “Slime-mold of Slytherin-”

            “Gentlemen!” Dumbledore shouted, snapping them back to the present. He was still grinning happily. “You two do realize what this means?”

            “Yes,” Severus answered miserably, slumping into a chair. He glared at Sirius. “I’m stuck with you forever.”

            “Hey!” Sirius protested. “I’m stuck with _you_. I think I get the short end of this deal.”

            Severus looked deeply into his eyes and did something utterly amazing.

            He smiled.


	24. Epilogue: Home

            “Aren’t you hot, Harry?” Hermione asked.

            Outside the window, green hills rolled by serenely. Their peace was not shared by Harry, whose stomach began binding itself in knots at Hermione’s question.

            “No,” he answered as nonchalantly as he could muster. “Why?”

            “You’re wearing long sleeves,” she replied. “And this is the hottest June England’s had in years.”

            Ron shook his head and popped another one of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans in his mouth. “Leave him alone about it, Hermione. I’d be a bit wacky, too, if one of my relatives was shagging Snape.”

            Harry shrugged and turned his face towards the window, unconsciously tugging at his left sleeve. The Dark Mark, although much faded, still occasionally throbbed, the lingering effect of Snape’s multiple, rapid invocations while under the Imperius Curse.

            _What will happen next year, when Voldemort can attack me again?_ he wondered. _How often will he make it burn?_

            He had spoken nothing of their last confrontation to Hermione and Ron. The event was a very private matter between Sirius and Snape; he felt himself an intruder upon it.

            He glanced back at Hermione, who was tweaking a set of Arithmancy equations, and Ron, who had moved on from Bertie Bott’s to struggle with a Chocolate Frog, and knew that things would never be the same. He had thought that after the death of Cedric Diggory, but he knew he had been incorrect then. His friends had still been his confidants; now, he had secrets he could not reveal even to them.

 

* * *

 

            With a resigned sigh, Harry crossed the barrier between Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and King’s Cross Station. Hedwig hooted anxiously in her cage. She was looking forward to the summer no more than he.

            “I’ll let you out as much as I can,” he promised her. “I’ll send lots of letters. Agreed?”

            Hedwig cooed, but it was not a complete approval.

            Harry glanced about him. The Station was crammed with the usual crowd of Muggles: families about to depart on vacation, students returning from boarding school, two lawyers with briefcases ready for a board meeting across the country. But where were the Dursleys?

            _Maybe they forgot_ , Harry thought. He wasn’t sure if he was apprehensive or hopeful. What _would_ he do if the Dursleys did not show up? He supposed he could spend a few days at the Leaky Cauldron after sending an owl to Ron. That wouldn’t be so bad, but he was just a smidgen curious if Dudley had kept to his diet while at Smeltings.

            He glanced about the Station again. Nothing had changed, except that the lawyers were walking towards- him? Harry adjusted his glasses and squinted his eyes.

            _No_ , he thought. _It couldn’t be_.

            He rushed over to them. “Sirius? Professor Snape?”

            It was one of the more bizarre sights of his life. Sirius, clean-shaven with his hair slicked back, and Snape with his naturally-greasy hair in a pony-tail, were standing side by side in identical Muggle business suits. Sirius was grinning while Snape- little surprise- was scowling.

            “What are you doing here?” Harry inquired.

            “Taking you home,” Sirius answered.

            “But… the Dursleys… they’ll flip-” Harry stopped. It would mean an even more unbearable summer, but perhaps the entertainment of Snape and Sirius showing up at his aunt and uncle’s doorstep would be enough to get him through it.

            “You are not going back to the Dursleys,” said Snape stiffly.

            Sirius teasingly prodded, “Tell him why.”

            “You tell him why!”

            “Well,” he began to explain, “I wanted to legally adopt you, Harry, but as I’m not quite legal, Severus-”

            “He made me do it,” Snape stated flatly.

            Harry asked, “Do what?”

            He sighed. “According to both the Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government, I am now your legal guardian.”

            “Foster father,” Sirius clarified.

            “Guardian!” Snape snapped. Sirius gave him a small, mischievous grin.

            Harry was dazzled. “Do you mean it? I’m really…” Then he remembered something which completely burst his happy little bubble. “Wait. Dumbledore made me stay with the Dursleys because of a special protection he placed-”

            Sirius cut him off, “Say no more. Dumbledore knows all about this. He agreed to it because he’s going to place us under the protection of the Fidelius Charm. We’ll be completely safe.”

            _Fidelius Charm?_ Harry thought with sudden dread. “But what if our Secret-Keeper-”

            “It’s someone both Severus and I trust completely,” Sirius assured him. “And you know how few people Severus trusts.”

            Snape shot Sirius a foul look.

            Sirius continued, “We have a little place on the shore. Remus Lupin is going to be staying with us, too.”

            Harry still could not believe it. “I’m going to stay with you? And Remus? And…” He hesitated.

            _I’m going to live in a house with Snape_ , he realized suddenly. It did not seem much like a cause for celebration.

            “Oh, I suppose you will have to call me ‘Severus’,” Snape begrudged him. “But _NOT_ during school!”

            Snape- Severus? Harry did not think he could get used to that- folded his arms. “Tomorrow we’ll go to Privy- Privet- wherever those Muggle relatives of yours live and get your things. Then we’ll return here and meet up with Dumbledore and Lupin.”

            “Umm…” Harry began timidly. “Can we go shopping?”

            “What for?” Snape demanded.

            “I don’t have many clothes. The Dursleys just gave me my cousin’s old things and he’s… not really my size.”

            Snape rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_. But at Diagon. I’m not buying you any Muggle crap.”

            “Severus doesn’t like Muggles,” Sirius explained.

            _That’s not surprising_ , he thought.

            As they began to leave the station, Sirius remarked, “You know what I just realized?”

            “What?” Snape inquired indulgently.

            “We have a quartet again. We can form another band of Marauders. Moony, Padfoot, Prongs Jr., and… well, we’ll think up a name for you.”

            “Charming,” he drawled, clearly emphasizing his sentiments.

            “I think ‘Venomtongue’ would fit. Don’t you, Harry?” Sirius asked with a wink.

            Snape scowled at him. “Let’s find a place for you to transform so we can get back to the Leaky Cauldron. I want to get out of these Muggle clothes.”

            “Just get out? Or were you planning to get into something as well?” Sirius asked suggestively.

            “Don’t make innuendoes in front of your godson!” Snape snapped.

            Harry tried very hard not to laugh.


End file.
